


Anchor Point

by Hino



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Coomer still does his weird infodumping and it's great, Gen, People are learning to cope, Post canon, Set three months after hlvrai, Tommy is also not at all human and it's very good, Trace mentions of Benry, Violence and Gore in a chapter, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: Black Mesa's sent out the hush money. Gordon's learned to sleep again. He's stopped dreaming of bodies. He's getting back into the routine of seeing his son again.The Resonance Cascade was three months ago and it's in the past.But something feels like it's pressing at the periphery of his sight, something that should not be there.Gordon Freeman is the anchor point for something on a Need to Know basis.Now, Gordon Freeman Needs to Know.
Comments: 53
Kudos: 293





	1. Three Months

The waiting room for the doctor's office was clean and comfortably quiet. The quiet sound of a commercial radio played through the speakers, enough to quell the ringing in Gordon's ears as he sits in the plastic waiting room chair, but not so loud that it muffles the conversation of the receptionist a room over, a few spare words making its way in to him.

A door gently creaked open, and out stepped a young man, looking to Gordon with a smile. "Doctor Freeman?"

Startled from his thoughts, Gordon stood. He'd dressed in his civilian clothes; a blue button-up and denim jeans. Ever since the Black Mesa incident, he'd had an aversion to lab coats and neckties. "Yes. You're Doctor Yao-Yun?"

Doctor Yao-Yun nodded and gestured for him to enter. "It's good to see you Gordon." Waiting until he had entered, Yao-Yun closed the door to the office. "I'm sorry we couldn't schedule you in with your previous therapist, but they've been moved to a higher Security Clearance. I've been briefed on the Resonance Cascade however, and I've gone through your file."

Gordon nodded, moving over to the single-seater recliner and taking a seat.

It was comfortable, and as Yao-Yun locked the door for privacy, Gordon took the time to look over the office. It was small but cosy, feeling more like an apartment than a workspace. Behind the recliner he was seated in was a desk full of paperwork, and on the left wall was a small kitchenette. Directly across from his seat was another comfortable chair, presumably for Yao-Yun, along with a small laptop and some notepaper on the arm of it.

Yao-Yun moved over to the kitchenette, flicking on the kettle. "I hear you take coffee black with six sugars, correct?"

Gordon nodded. "Yeah. Tried it once in College and never went back."

There's a laugh from Yao-Yun. "Understandable."

There's nothing particularly formal about Yao-Yun that signals they'd be a doctor. Their hair is a faded lilac and messy, showing blonde at the roots, and their olive-green turtleneck looks more like sleepwear than Black Mesa regulation uniform. "Is the psychology department more relaxed than the others?" Gordon asked, curious.

"Oh, they let us wear whatever," came the answer as Yao-Yun handed Gordon his coffee, along with a complimentary plate of cookies. "Considering the Security Level we're operating at, we can't exactly 'leave' Black Mesa, so they give us aesthetic freedom in exchange."

Gordon's eyes widened, but before he could ask anything else, Yao-Yun sat down in the chair opposite him, teacup resting on the notepad as they pulled the laptop onto their lap. "So, it's been three months and two weeks since the Resonance Cascade incident. How are you readjusting? I heard you suffered night terrors and intense claustrophobia after the 'Birthday Bash' or so it was called."

And so Gordon began to speak. Yao-Yun gave off a comfortable aura, just as relaxing as the waiting room. There was no time limit on their meeting, which gave Gordon room to explain in whatever way he wanted.

He spoke about his night terrors, which had finally started to settle down. Initially it was things such as the Peeper Puppies, the people he and the Science Team had mowed down in their attempt to escape Black Mesa, Benry's betrayal and attack, as well as a very persistent nightmare about the Helicopter Mound. Now it was things like being trapped in a labyrinth of corridors, be they Black Mesa or Xen. They were dreams he could deal with; moving through with grounding methods, or the knowledge that it was impossible for him to return to those places, leaving him to wake with only a slight sense of residual unease.

He also talked about his son, who he'd started seeing again. Immediately after the whole incident he'd called his ex-wife and begged to speak to Joshua. After that, their phone calls became regular, and as he started readjusting to life outside Black Mesa's research facility, he and Josh had spent time doing fun and safe things together with no aliens involved. The hush money that Black Mesa had sent him also helped, as well as providing a therapist free of charge in exchange for Gordon not telling anyone what had happened.

There was also the Science Team, who he still had regular contact with. Bubby and Coomer shared a house, if only because Bubby insisted that a basement was the best place to do science, and he needed Coomer on hand to help. Coomer simply agreed because Bubby had bought him a Super Nintendo Entertainment System along with Punch Out! as a bribe. Tommy and Sunkist came to visit every week or so, sometimes timing their visits with Josh's arrival so they could play together.

During their conversations, Yao-Yun would take notes on both computer and paper, sometimes carrying the laptop with them as they moved to the kitchenette to prepare more coffee, or provide a different array of snacks. They prompted Gordon with more questions, and by the time Gordon had run out of things to say, Yao-Yun had a comfortable amount of information to work with.

"It sounds like you're recovering well," Yao-Yun said, setting aside their laptop. "You're making some great steps towards overcoming your night terrors with your grounding techniques." There was a smile on their face and Gordon felt relaxed at seeing it. "I'd like to schedule another meeting from now, and have you work on methods to change the dreams you are having. A state of self-awareness, where you can wake yourself up or interrupt the situation."

Gordon nodded. "That sounds good, thank you." He finished the remainder of his lukewarm coffee and grabbed as biscuit as Yao-Yun listed off their available times. 

He picked just after lunch on a Tuesday, and Yao-Yun handed him an appointment card. "My contact details are there in case you need to call," they said. "Black Mesa would prefer you come here with problems after all."

It was code for 'Don't tell anyone' and Gordon understood, pocketing the card. "Thanks again," he replied, giving a small wave as he left the office. He signed some paperwork for the receptionist and with that Gordon was outside.

He liked being outside. After spending several days trying to escape Black Mesa, he'd come to be awfully fond of the outdoors, even when it rained or stormed. The first time there'd been a rainstorm, he'd gone out and played in the puddles, much to the amusement of Tommy and Sunkist, who came to join him.

This branch of Black Mesa was a modest looking building in the middle of town, fitting in among the various shops and restaurants that lined the streets. If he'd had to go back into the middle of the New Mexico desert, Gordon thinks he'd just go public with the news.

A glance to his watch told him it was getting close to dinner, although the sun had yet to start sinking beyond the horizon. There were no plans for what to eat though, leaving him to wander idly down the road, inspecting each restaurant name and criticizing it internally. They all seemed rather bland and boring, with food that just didn't feel right. It made Gordon feel uneasy, eyes scanning menus and billboards for something that'd be alright.

On the left-hand side of the intersection sat a small restaurant, lit up for the evening. The outdoor seating was partially full, and despite the hustle and bustle inside, it seemed like it was still possible to be served.

Large crowds were a good thing in Gordon's books, and as he approached the restaurant to ask about a table, he turned his gaze over the outdoor seating and paused. "Bubby?" He readjusted his glasses. "Hey, Bubby!"

Towards the center of the small area, a man turned towards Gordon, scowling behind his glasses for a moment. "Oh, Gordon!"

Across from him sat another man who called out cheerfully. "Hello Gordon!"

Gordon couldn't help but smile, seeing Doctor Coomer there too. "Hey!"  
With a smile on his face, he opened the door and navigated between the tables with ease, stepping out into the small fenced-off dining area. "It's been a while, how are you both?"

Bubby scoffed. "A while? It's only been two weeks."

"Now now," Coomer interrupted, not wanting an argument to start, "it's a long time when you're used to constant companionship!" He turned to flash Gordon a smile. "Pull up a chair Gordon, there's room for three here!"

"Only if Doctor Bubby's okay with it." Gordon looked to the older man, watching him clean his glasses on the brown jacket he was wearing. Bubby's everyday clothes were more of an 'old man' style, complimenting Coomer's 'happy grandpa' aesthetic. There was a few grumbles before he answered with a reluctant "Sit down Gordon" and motioned for him to take a seat.

Grabbing a chair from a nearby table, Gordon sat down and quickly looked over the menu. "Have you both ordered yet?"

"We have, but there's still time for you to pick something!" Coomer smiled and Gordon returned it, looking at the list of mains.

"I'll have a steak," he said after a moment, giving the list one last look before setting down the menu. "What did you both ask for?"

Bubby opened his mouth to answer when the waitress appeared, setting down a share plate of garlic bread, a seafood carbonara for Coomer, and a ceasar salad for Bubby.

"Were you waiting on something?" the waitress asked, looking to Gordon. He opened his mouth to speak when her eyes widened. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot it, I'm sorry." 

She hurried away, and Gordon raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking to Bubby and Coomer. "Am I really that scary?"

"Nah," Bubby answered, spearing a piece of bacon and avocado in his salad. "Coomer's just bending the fabric of reality."

Gordon looked to Coomer. "What."

"Well Gordon, since we've escaped the lab, my AI has started to settle down. You notice how there's a world outside Black Mesa now, right? It's because we're not being observed. They don't need to control us, so we can do what we want! But just because you know breaking the rules of reality is wrong, doesn't mean you shouldn't do it!" Smiling as he spoke, Coomer began to cut into his food, gesturing with his cutlery as he did. Gordon leaned back as Coomer casually pointed a knife at him. 

The waitress returned before Gordon could answer, setting down a steak and apologizing. He couldn't find the words to answer, instead letting her leave. "You're crazy, Doctor Coomer."

Coomer shrugged. "It's just like The Matrix!"

Gordon rubbed at his eyes, glasses resting on top of his head. "What do you mean? Is this something to do with the 'World inside my Dreams' or whatever?"

This time Coomer laughed. "That world's no longer there Gordon. We're all still alive when you go to sleep."

"What." Gordon blinked, hands limp in his lap and jaw slack. A silence rested between the three of them for a moment before Gordon sighed, pushing his glasses back into place and starting his meal.

For a meal that only existed because Coomer had essentially edited the restaurant's config file, it tasted rather nice. As the three of them ate, Gordon talked about his therapist appointment, listing off some of the things he'd remembered and experienced.

Doctor Coomer sipped at his drink, having ordered a bottle of wine for the table midway through dinner. "I'm afraid Black Mesa doesn't have anyone to talk to about the fabric of reality," he said. "Although Tommy's father might be worth speaking to."

"That requires you to track him down," Bubby answered, looking to Gordon. "Man never answers his phone!"

"Do you even answer yours?" Gordon asked in response. Bubby shut his mouth, scowling into the remains of his salad. "Checkmate."

Coomer laughed, Gordon joining him. It felt nice like this, eating dinner with friends under the night's sky without the US Military bearing down on them. It made him feel okay, comfortable even. He thought to mention it to Yao-Yun later.

"Say, do you two want to come back to my place for a-"

Gordon stopped, goosebumps raising on his arms. His spine went rigid, and as his eyes widened behind his glasses, Bubby leant forward. "For what, Gordon?"

But he didn't answer. Instead, he was focused on the gentle melodic song he could hear. It was in a strange pitch, gently fluctuating in a way that made him imagine blue and green hues. "Do you- Do you hear that?"

Coomer looked around the dining area. "Hear what, Gordon?" he asked as Gordon stood, eyes scanning the area. Bubby said nothing, but he did glance around, straining his ears to hear something. "I'm not hearing anything."

"Sweet Voice..." Confused, Gordon turned his head, trying to hear it better, or even spot some of those signature orbs. "The Black Mesa Sweet Voice, I can hear it. Someone's singing."

A frown began to creep onto Coomer's lips. "I don't hear anything Gordon. Perhaps your therapy session has awoken some kind of dormant memories? Sometimes people can imagine sounds." 

Taking a breath, he almost launched into an explanation of what sound was, only to be silenced by Bubby holding up a hand. "I think I hear it, but I'm not sure. It sounds... quiet."

Gordon idly acknowledged it, eyes scanning the crowd. "There!" He raised an arm to point to the roof of a nearby building. It was hard to see, but the glow of the Black Mesa Sweet Voice was something he'd grown used to spotting. "Can you see it?"

"My eyes aren't that good," Bubby answered. Coomer turned to look, squinting for a moment before raising his arm and pointing at a specific part of the roof. "There does seem to be something there, but I'm afraid I can't read it."

Frantically, Gordon dove into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Opening the camera, he zoomed in as best as he could, just managing to take a photo before the last of the Sweet Voice faded away. "Tommy will know," he said as he began to send a message to Tommy. "He'll tell us."

Titling the message 'Hey what's this mean please thanks', Gordon sent it, grip tight on his phone. He could feel his heart racing, and he prepared to ask Coomer a question about it when Bubby gently eased Gordon back into his chair. "You're being a bit loud."

The restaurant guests were staring at them, and those that weren't instead had their gaze on the building. Coomer sat down as well, clearing his throat and taking another sip of wine, cheeks slightly reddened with embarrassment. "Oh dear."

Gordon pulled his chair in, grabbing his own wine glass and trying not to think of the spectacle he'd caused. He almost missed the buzz of his phone as he did, mouth half-full as he scrambled to open the message. A bit of wine leaked out his mouth, making Bubby scoff and roll his eyes.

Tommy had sent two messages in response.

Tommy: Someone else can do the Sweet Voice?  
Tommy: Green to Clear: How did I get here?

"Huh..." Gordon set the phone down trying to think about it. The second he put it down, it vibrated again with another message from Tommy.

Tommy: It has Benry's accent! Isn't that cool! I wonder if they're his friend.

Gordon sank into his chair. Benry didn't have living friends.

Things weren't looking to stay normal, it seemed.


	2. A Night to Relax and Unwind

With their dinners finished and paid for, Gordon stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, taking a moment to look at the stars. Coomer and Bubby had agreed to come to his house, although more for the fact Gordon had just heard someone use the Sweet Voice for the first time in three months, and nobody else they knew could use it.

Sure, Bubby and Coomer had done it once or twice, but it had been more accident than anything, and only when in the proximity of Benry. Since the 'Security Guard' had left their plane of existence, neither of them had managed to get a single note out.

Gordon's apartment was full to bursting with various knick-knacks and furniture. When he'd left Black Mesa's dormitories behind, he'd bought an apartment in a quiet part of town and fitted it with a bed, couch, and television.

Of course, once the Science Team had come around for a housewarming and found out how bad Gordon was at decorating his space, as well as the fact he didn't even bother to paint the walls, they'd gotten to work.

Now as the three of them entered the apartment, they struggled not to trip. The entryway had a shoerack stacked with spare slippers for every member of the Science Team plus Joshua, as well as an assortment of umbrellas, due to Tommy's insistence and the fact everyone always forgot to bring one.

"I did hear it might rain tonight," Coomer commented as he slipped off his shoes, swapping them out for his more comfortable pair. Bubby didn't bother, bypassing Gordon, who was taking off his shoes, and heading straight to the recliner.

He sank into it, already kicking up the footrest as Coomer and Gordon rounded the corner to the small living room. The two of them sat down on the three-seater, each pulling one of the folded blankets off the arm and draping it over their legs. 

Gordon flicked on the television, skimming through channels until he found what looked to be some old black-and-white movie. "Is this your speed, Bubby?"

"Were I not so comfortable, I would punch you," came the retort.

"I'll punch him for you!" Coomer chimed with a smile, giving Gordon's left arm a mighty wallop. It knocked Gordon into the arm of the couch, a mix of laughter and groans coming out of his mouth.

"Oof, still hitting the gym Doctor Coomer?" Rubbing at his arm, Gordon looked to Bubby and Coomer, watching the two of them shake hands over a punch well-delivered. "Can I atone with some nice warm coffee?"

Coomer smiled. "I'm running the local boxing ring! The New Mexico Super Punchers, in honour of Super Punchout! for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System."

"That's a yes on the coffee," Bubby interjected.

"Coffee is a brewed drink prepared from roasted coffee beans, the seeds of berries from certain Coffea species. Once ripe, coffee berries are picked, processed, and dried. Dried coffee seeds (referred to as "beans") are roasted-" Coomer spoke easily, clearly enjoying himself as Gordon flashed Bubby a thumbs up and headed to the small kitchen. 

Coomer's voice became a pleasant background noise as Gordon prepared their drinks. They all had designated mugs, chosen after a trip to the local second-hand store. In fact, almost everything in his apartment was chosen by the others. His only contributions were his room, which felt dismal and exhausting to be in compared to the living area. 

The fridge was covered in Joshua's drawings, and even some of Tommy's fit in there, placed between Josh's interpretation of a sun going supernova, and a group photo at the local arcade.

Photos were a continual theme, covering the apartment walls and sitting framed on any empty surface. They'd all really connected during the Black Mesa incident, and after they'd finished at Chuck E. Cheese, they could barely go a day without hanging out or making some kind of contact. At one point Gordon had forgotten to answer his phone, so Bubby decided to break into Gordon's apartment via the window, ignoring the fact it was three storeys off the ground. 

Of course after that, Gordon made sure to keep his phone on him at all times.

He'd just finished preparing their drinks (black six sugars for himself, white with one sugar for Coomer, and white with four sugars and a sprinkle of powdered chocolate for Bubby) when he felt his pocket buzz. Picking up the kettle with one hand and pouring, he pulled out his phone with the other, finding a message from Joshua.

He'd gotten Joshua his own phone, but with some help from Bubby and an acquaintance, Gordon had managed to make it so all Joshua could do was call and send texts to his mother or Gordon, and take photos.

Opening the message, Gordon found an attachment with the caption 'Dad fighting the bad guy', accompanied by a drawing. He tapped on it, putting the phone down on the bench for a second as he set the kettle back in its place. The image loaded and Gordon leaned over to look at it, hand blindly groping for the teaspoon he'd used earlier.

The picture was very obviously drawn by a six year old, but a six year old with talent. Gordon could recognize himself in the HEV suit, complete with his gun arm - Who had told his son about that? - in combat with-

Gordon turned away from the counter, eyes sharp as he looked to the two old men who were chatting about science. "Which one of you told Joshua about Benry."

The comfortable air vanished as the two scientists looked to Gordon, each with their own expression of confusion. Coomer looked confused as to why someone would have told Joshua about Benry, while Bubby looked confused due to Gordon's sudden outburst.

Their silence only served to make Gordon angrier. "Which one of you did it?"

Again there was silence. Gordon looked to Coomer and then to Bubby. Both of them could have done it. There's also the possibility that someone else did. "It wasn't Tommy. He promised me he wouldn't, and I don't think Tommy is the type of break those kinds of promises."

"-He was asking questions!"

"Bubby!"

The man had stood up from his chair, looking at Gordon from behind the thick frames of his glasses. "He wanted to know what happened to your hand, and what happened at work and so I told him."

"He's six! You can't go telling six year olds about this kind of stuff!" 

Gordon stepped forward, intent on approaching Bubby but stopped as Bubby closed the gap, getting into Gordon's personal space. "Children deserve to know what happens in the world."

"By frightening them with stories about aliens and inter-dimensional beings trying to kill their dad and his friends?"

"As opposed to what, leaving him in the dark and pretending we all went on a happy fun adventure through the innocent Black Mesa?"

"You could of toned it down for him!"

"He needs to be prepared!"

"Gordon, your phone is ringing."

Their argument stopped as Coomer interrupted, standing in the kitchen with one hand holding his coffee and the other gripping Gordon's currently-vibrating phone. Gordon quickly stepped away, grabbing his phone and answering without checking the name. "Hello?"

"Dad!"

Joshua's enthusiastic voice came in from the other end, startling Gordon. Coomer merely sipped at his coffee while Bubby crossed his arms, not wanting to close the space between himself and Gordon, yet wanting his drink. "Dad, did you get my picture?"

"Sure did, buddy!" There was a forced joy in Gordon's voice as he answered, moving into the living room. It gave Bubby the opportunity to leap into the kitchen, snatching up his coffee and sipping it. "It was uh, pretty creative. Where'd you get the idea?"

There was some shuffling on Josh's end, most likely him getting comfortable in whatever little fort he'd made. "Uncle Bubby told me about it! He said that you had to fight Benry and that he was a bad guy."

Gordon hummed in acknowledgment. "Uh huh..."

"But Uncle Bubby said that Benry used to be a friend too!" 

"Benry wasn't really a friend," Gordon replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "He was just a guy who came with us."

"Dad," Josh began, "did he ever say sorry for cutting off your hand?"

The words caught Gordon off-guard, so much so that he almost forgot to answer. When G-Man had taken his hand away it'd been replaced with a shoddy prosthetic, and then later with a high-tech version that had things such as finger tracking and realistic skin. It blended in with his arm and looked just as real as his left hand, but no matter what, they hadn't been able to get it linked to his brain for senses like touch and temperature.

His mouth felt dry, making it hard to reply when Josh spoke. "Dad?"

"N-No," he answered. "He didn't." 

Gordon could tell Joshua was frowning. "Do you think Benry was sad that he became a bad guy?"

"No, not at all. He-" Gordon tried to find an argument but couldn't. Sure Benry had terrorized them all, but he hadn't killed anyone or made any serious attempt to until that final time in Xen. He was an agent of chaos, creating messes and problems for the Science Team, but everything Benry set up could be overcome with murder that either made them all laugh, or helped them learn about each other. "He wasn't a good person, I don't-"

"Did he want to be a bad guy, Dad?"

Gordon grit his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath. In the kitchen, Bubby stood close to Coomer, trying to find some comfort in the man. They could both see Gordon from here, noticing the tenseness in his posture. Joshua's questions were too quiet for them to hear, but the responses told them more than enough.

"I don't think anyone wants to be the bad guy, Josh." There was defeat in his voice, exhaustion permeating his words. "Nobody wants to betray and hurt their... friends." It felt strange calling himself and the others Benry's friends, but there was some kind of camaraderie rivaling friendship between them all.

Joshua was silent for a moment, leaving Gordon to think he'd lost connection when the boy spoke up again. "I think Benry was sad to hurt you all."

"I have to go now Joshua," Gordon said, voice flat. He pulled the phone away from his ear, barely hearing the quiet 'Oh, bye!' before hanging up.

Bubby and Coomer spared each other a look. Coomer elbowed Bubby gently, motioning towards Gordon with his head. "Go on."

He bit his lip gently, but Bubby did as he was told. Grabbing Gordon's drink, he carried it over and held it out as a peace offering.

Gordon took it, face old and tired as he did. Bubby felt uneasy. "Would you... like to watch some of those old people films?"

Coomer moved over to the couch as Gordon managed a tiny smile, fragile and fleeting. "Yeah, sure."


	3. Scripts and Maps

When the end credits started to roll for the movie, Gordon was already asleep. Halfway through he'd gone from sitting upright on the couch to leaning against Coomer, head resting on his shoulder. Bubby had jokingly snapped about Gordon being a shameless flirt while Coomer had laughed and gently pat Gordon's hair like he was a small child.

But near the end he'd slid from Coomer's shoulder to his lap, eyes half-closed as Coomer idly untangled a few knots in Gordon's hair. His breathing evened out and as the hero and the girl rode off into the sunset, he was down and out for the count.

"Bubby, should we wake him?" Coomer asked, gently resting a hand on Gordon's shoulder. His thumb moved in a repetitive motion, forward and back in a soothing manner. "It is getting late." 

"We'll stay the night," Bubby answered, getting out of the recliner. His muscles popped as he did, more cracking to follow as he stretched. "He still keeps spare blankets around for Joshua's visits."

Shuffling into Gordon's plain bedroom, Bubby bent down and pulled out a large rolling drawer from under the bed. It was filled with blankets, and he gathered some in his arms, kicking the drawer shut with his foot. He debated grabbing the quilt from the bed but didn't bother. If Gordon wanted it, he could come get it.

With the blankets gathered, Bubby returned to the living room, dumping the bundle on the recliner he'd been sitting on. "Are you going to sleep like that?"

"It's fine," Coomer answered. Bubby raised an eyebrow as he picked up a warm mint green blanket. "The couch is comfortable enough." To make a point, he pushed on the cushions, watching how his hand sank in to the middle of his lower arm. "I should be okay."

Bubby was skeptical but didn't argue. He knew that if he did, Coomer would pick a Wikipedia article at random to cite. While Tommy may have read all the Wikipedia articles, Coomer had read a select handful and memorized them word for word. Bubby had learned this the hard way.

An orange blanket was draped over Gordon, covering him and giving room for him to squirm and roll during the night. Bubby looked at the man for a moment before sighing, shoulders dropping as he did. Carefully, Bubby removed Gordon's glasses, folding them up and setting them on the small coffee table by the window. Then, he returned and gently began to tuck Gordon in, making sure the blanket was snug around him. It had started getting colder lately, and Gordon wasn't the warmest man without the HEV suit.

Coomer watched with a fond smile. "You've really grown to like him, haven't you Bubby?"

"He's less of an irritating shit than he was in Black Mesa," Bubby answered.

"Embarrassment or awkwardness is an emotional state that is associated with mild to severe levels of discomfort-" Coomer stopped himself as Bubby scowled, moving over to the few remaining blankets. He began to wrap himself in layers, starting with a horrendous yet soft Minions blanket, then moving onto a blue one and finally a grey woolen blanket.

Firmly in his blanket burrito, Bubby climbed onto the recliner and kicked up the footrest, getting comfortable as he leaned back into the soft chair. Coomer smiled at him. "Goodnight Bubby."

"Goodnight Coomer." Bubby turned his head to give Coomer a smile. He removed his glasses and set them on the arm of the chair before snuggling down and closing his eyes.

Coomer didn't go straight to sleep though. Instead he took a moment to look around at the walls, taking in all the memories of their past. It had been a short three months but they had all done so much. Every day had been an adventure, and even when they hadn't gone to ride rollercoasters or travel across two states to tear up Las Vegas, there'd always been something to remember.

It felt ironic that despite taking several photos of them all, Benry featured in none of the photos.

None of them had Benry's photos either. It'd stayed on his camera, and when shit had hit the fan in Xen, well they'd never gotten time to ask for a copy.

But now here they sat, in a space where no script described their actions. Coomer could feel the freedom in his words, and he could see it in the others.

With a sigh, he sank into the couch as far as he could, looking up to the ceiling. "I don't think anyone wants to be the bad guy." Quiet words with more weight than when Gordon had spoken them. "You're right about that one, Gordon."

In his lap, Gordon stirred slightly but didn't wake.

"We woke up one morning and something changed. There was a new character flag attached to each of us. It said 'Friendly'. You know what friendly is, don't you Gordon." Coomer leant forward, brushing a stray hair off Gordon's nose. "Benry had that flag too, but he had another. It said 'Boss', and the skeletons had it too. Now I don't know if that skeleton only you could see had it, but the ones at the end certainly did."

Biting his lip, Coomer considered his next words carefully. "He said you wanted him to be bad, but it wasn't you. It was the person living through you."

Gordon's face scrunched up for a moment before easing, stress vanishing as he slept. Coomer settled back into the couch, closed his eyes, and hoped that tonight he would not feel the soft and subtle tug of another clone's creation.

*

Tonight, Gordon dreamed of Black Mesa. It wasn't unusual, but it was always uncomfortable.

Back in his HEV suit, Gordon felt the familiar sensation of being closed in, skin kept warm by top of the line technology. It kept the stagnant air's chill away, although it still stung at his ears and the tip of his nose.

He stood in the bathroom connected to the locker room, hands resting on the bench as he looked at himself. No injuries or signs of struggle marred his skin, but Gordon knew that he had a faint scar in his eyebrow that nobody could spot unless they were really looking for it.

Above, the fluorescent lights flickered, adding to the surreal feeling that permeated the space. Gordon knew he shouldn't be here, but dreams had trouble being tamed. All he could do was try and stay as lucid as possible.

Lucidity came in a lip between his teeth and the crowbar in his hand. The biting cold of the steel against his fingers did not make it through his gloves, nor onto his face as he rested the bar against his cheek. As for his lip, he ran his teeth along it and focused on the lack of sensation, using it to ground himself.

The halls of the facility were empty, but they often were when Gordon dreamed of this place. He'd find signs of life like bloodstains and desks full of paperwork, but never any scientists. Even headcrabs and the like didn't appear, although the bullet shells spent on killing them sure did.

Each step echoed in the place, and the air felt heavy as Gordon breathed. It felt like something was sitting on his chest, but he couldn't place what it might be in reality. Sometimes bodies just felt strangely, he supposed. Either way, he tried to not put too much stock in it as he rounded the corner to the test chamber. 

There was no need for a scientist to open the doors. They merely slid open as he approached them, and the few that didn't gave way when he brought his crowbar into the equation. In the same manner, the door that led to the beginning of his personal hell, Ground Zero for the Resonance Cascade, slid open and welcomed him with a gentle hiss and the faintest traces of steam.

The green light that had once burned itself into his eyes shone just as vibrant as he remembered it to be. It sparked from the center of the room and leapt onto the walls, arcs of energy crawling along the metalwork like little lizards, vanishing and reappearing at their own will. Gordon stared at it, a muted awe in his heart. 

He'd come to this place many times in his dreams, although not as often as he found himself wandering the endless halls in search of an escape. Sometimes he'd have multiple dreams of Black Mesa each night, waking in shock for a split second before falling back into the clutches of another nightmare. This room never hurt him, but it did remind him of the rest of the facility, which was a pain in and of itself.

He entered the room and sat down just a few steps from the doors. Dreams were unpredictable, but one thing he did always find was a can of soda sitting within arm's reach. He grabbed it, cracking it open and listening to the hiss of decompression. "The one good thing about this place was the soda," Gordon mumbled with a smile, taking a sip.

And so he sat there, watching the green of the beam shine away, arcing into the walls when it felt like it. Sometimes something in the facility would explode, but it was always a distant noise that faintly rumbled the ground, something Gordon had grown used to in both dreams and reality.

Along with the occasional rumble came a few notes of a song, reminding him of a radio signal wavering in and out. It was soothing, the tune something that Gordon swore he'd heard before but couldn't place in the slightest.

As he sipped his soda, the tune continued, slowly growing more consistent but remaining soft and delicate, drowned out by any loud sound. It put Gordon's mind at ease, and he paused for a moment, looking away from the electricity to try and strain his ears. If he could just focus, just for a moment, focus on that sound-

-Footsteps. They interrupted the song and Gordon turned sharply to the side, trying to find the source. His hand tightened on the soda can, metal crushing around his fingers with only the illusion of sensation, and lip between his teeth in an emergency grounding measure, readying himself for whatever he might see.

He lifted his gaze and a warm, sharp breath filled his lungs.


	4. Good Morning

Gordon awoke slowly despite the shock that flooded his system. His dream vanished with his breath, instead offering him the back of his eyelids. It was that darkness that he felt first, followed by the sensation of touch. He'd had sleep paralysis before, with thoughts of headcrabs and the like climbing up the bedposts, but this was different.

His hearing came next, although it took a second to follow. As Gordon tried to think about the blanket draped over him or the softness beneath his head, he heard the beginnings of a conversation, although the words were a slurry of sounds that he could barely distinguish as English, let alone as distinct sounds.

Something wet touched his hand from beneath the blanket, accompanied by warm air. Gordon mumbled, trying to jerk his hand away and instead only managing to inch it further onto whatever he was laying on. The cold withdrew, and as Gordon's brain switched back on, he placed it as a dog.

But he didn't have a dog-

"Sunkist, don't wake Gordon." The voice was the same that had been speaking before when words were incomprehensible. Bubby's tone was gentle, no real scolding or irritation behind it. "He needs his sleep."

A gentle 'boof' answered him as Sunkist padded away, nails clicking on the floor. Gordon tried to open his eyes, finding it a struggle as his mind connected intention to action. They didn't open entirely, but he managed to crack them both open enough to see his living room from the perspective of his couch, a position he'd grown to know after a few late nights with Tommy playing games and arguing hypotheticals about comic book heroes in fights.

Sunkist padded over to Bubby and sat beside him. His head reached Bubby's shoulder when he sat up straight, giving him a perfect view of whatever Bubby was doing. In return, Bubby handed something to Sunkist who took it and trotted away, curling up in the corner of the room. When he laid down like that, he looked no bigger than a normal golden retriever. At first Gordon had thought it strange, but considering Tommy had described Sunkist as 'the perfect dog', it somehow made sense that it could change size depending on what was needed.

Which also made Gordon think about something else. In Black Mesa, Sunkist had looked rather... flat. He'd said as much to Tommy. 

But now, Sunkist looked like a dog should; with mass and depth and width, fur that had texture, and a face that changed and showed expression in the way all animals do. Perhaps it had something to do with the 'World inside his dreams' or one of the other things Coomer had told him about.

Gordon closed his eyes, finding both the energy and the bodily autonomy to rub at them and clear the sleep away. Now he could open them fully, and as he sat up on the couch and reoriented himself, he found himself watching Bubby in the kitchen area as he brewed coffee and busied himself with the oven.

Normally Bubby was prickly and difficult to handle. His intellect meant that more often than not, he thought that his own takes on the situation were right. Then there was the fact that he was the Bubby that had succeeded where the other prototypes had not. It hadn't been too obvious in Black Mesa but now they were out in the world, it seemed to become more prominent. Overall, Bubby was not one to think of others and put them himself above them all.

Which was why Bubby telling Sunkist to behave was a strange occurence, and it was even stranger that Gordon could see more than one plate set up on the bench. "Bubby?"

At his name, Bubby jumped. He turned sharply, a frying pan in hand as he looked at Gordon, ignoring the oil that spat and crackled on the warm metal. "You're awake! Finally, you've been asleep forever!"

"What time is it?" Gordon asked, pulling his legs out from under the blanket and moving to stand.

"It's just after nine," Bubby answered, turning back to the stove. "Doctor Coomer went out to buy some soda, so I'm afraid you'll just have to deal with my cooking."

Bubby was cooking for him? Something definitely was wrong. "Are you sure you're Doctor Bubby? Because I don't remember him being this nice."

Bubby turned, blushing. "Look, Doctor Coomer said that I should try being nicer to people, and you were having a really bad night so I thought I'd make you something." He turned back to the oven, not wanting his embarrassment on display any longer.

Gordon paused. He must have been having a bad night if Bubby had noticed. "Can I... give you a hand?"

"Real or prosthetic?" Bubby asked, grinning. His teeth seemed sharper than Gordon remembered them being in Black Mesa, but things had changed. Sharp teeth would be the least strange thing to see. 

"I would have preferred two real hands but something happened." Gordon moved to the bench, preparing himself a coffee. "I wonder who's to blame."

Bubby looked away, turning his gaze to Sunkist. "I did apologize."

"I know," Gordon answered, playfully punching Bubby in the arm. They'd all done a lot of strange, unexplainable things in Black Mesa. Even now, Gordon couldn't pin down why he'd gone on a murderous rampage early on in their escape, only to pivot and try not to harm any scientist or security guard in their path. "I don't blame you."

"Punch me again and see what happens," Bubby threatened, still wearing that grin as he looked at Gordon. The grin was returned as Gordon gave another punch to Bubby's arm, softer than before. "Alright motherfucker, you asked for it."

"Thank you for helping with the shopping Tommy," Doctor Coomer grinned as he reached into his pocket, looking for his copy of Gordon's apartment key. They'd all ended up with a copy, and of course explained it to Gordon after breaking into his apartment at three in the morning to congratulate him on Black Mesa's hush money coming in.

Tommy nodded, silly straw in his mouth as he sipped his can of Sprite. He had a crate of mixed cans under his arm, and a few bags full of assorted snacks and other sodas in his hand with the can. "I wanted to talk to Mister Freeman about what he saw last night, and Sunkist wanted to visit too! He likes the shows Mister Freeman watches."

"Oh it's delightful when we have common interests!" Doctor Coomer answered, opening the apartment door. "I sure hope Gordon-"

He found himself cut off as Gordon's body slammed into the floor with a grunt of pain. "You call that a throw?"

A foot or so away stood Bubby, fists at the ready. "That was just the secondary warning!" He jumped, intent on slamming his elbow into Gordon's face when the man rolled, leaving Bubby to only hit the ground.

Taking advantage of the moment, Gordon leapt onto Bubby's back, trying to pin the man's arms against his back. Bubby writhed beneath him, knocking Gordon around and causing his gaze to lift to the door. "Oh, hey Doctor Coomer, Tommy."

Coomer dropped the soda he was carrying. "You started wrestling without me?"

"It's just a few practice rounds," Bubby answered, trying to soothe Doctor Coomer. "I told Gordon not to push his luck and look where we are."

"Yeah, with you pinned on the-" Gordon felt the world shift as Bubby's legs bent to wrap around his neck in a pose that would make most yoga instructors wince. Sharply, Bubby pulled his legs down, slamming the back of Gordon's head into the ground and giving him the opportunity to sit on the man's chest. Gordon wheezed. "Okay! Okay, I concede!"

"Damn right you do." Bubby got up, offering Gordon a hand. The man took it, getting to his feet and rubbing at his neck. "Told you not to try anything."

"Duly noted," Gordon answered, voice slightly raspy.

Sunkist had been watching their wresting with the same level of amusement as a cat watches the sun creep across the sky; that is, without any interest at all. When the two stood up and dusted themselves off, he trotted over, brushing against Gordon's leg for a moment before coming to sit before Tommy. Sunkist's face was level with Tommy's own, making Gordon consider his theory about Sunkist's 'perfection' meaning he could be anything that fit the situation.

"Hey Sunkist," Tommy greeted, patting his head. "Did you enjoy hanging out with Mister Freeman?"

Sunkist gave a bark of agreement, turning his head to look at Gordon. He seemed to be smiling, tongue hanging out his mouth. Gordon smiled back. 

"Soda!" Coomer held up the shopping bags filled with the drink and assorted snacks. "Oh, and I got you a present, Gordon!"

The mention of a present made Gordon raise an eyebrow. "You did?"

Coomer nodded, digging around in one of the plastic bags. Bubby motioned for Tommy to follow him, directing him where to put the crate of soda. "Ah, here!"

Holding out a long, thing cardboard box in offering, Gordon took it. The box itself was plain as anything, but as he opened it, he found what looked like-

"A silly straw?" Gordon held it in his hand, looking at the swirls and loops the plastic went in. Honestly, it looked like it'd take at least ten seconds to get the drink into your mouth.

Grinning, Doctor Coomer handed off the rest of the bags to Tommy, who went to put everything away. "It's not as good as the Black Mesa Silly Straw, but it's proven to have less radioactive elements, and is fifteen percent less likely to become sentient!"

Gordon was speechless, looking at the straw. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to him. After all, the silly straw had apparently been so important to the Science Team, that even Bubby had been spotted drinking from it a few times. "Thank you..."

Bubby tapped Gordon on the shoulder. "I have a coffee you can test it with," he said, offering the cup. Gordon took it graciously, putting the straw in. Coomer shuffled over to help Tommy, while Bubby returned to the kitchen bench where the rest of the coffee mugs, and their breakfast, was waiting. He'd once told Gordon that the first use of a Silly Straw should be without intereference, which Gordon had thought was stupid. He'd used silly straws as a kid, and there was nothing extremely special about it.

But as he took a sip, waiting for the coffee to swirl and loop around the twists and bends in the plastic straw, he felt some strange euphoric sensation, and as the coffee finally made it to his mouth, his mind seemed to explode with a variety of sensations.

"Looks like Mister Freeman likes it," Tommy quietly said, playing with the silly straw he had in his soda. Bubby and Coomer hummed in agreement, watching him with fondness.

By the time Gordon had come back to his senses, the Science Team was seated on his couch. The coffee table had been pulled close and was now covered with plates of bacon and eggs, along with various cups filled with either soda, coffee, of a mix of both.

Gordon lowered his cup, eyes slightly glazed as he looked at the three of them and Sunkist, who was curled up in Tommy's lap and looked no bigger than a puppy. "Silly Straws..."

"I had Darnold make it special," Coomer answered, cutting a piece of egg and putting it in his mouth. Gordon gave an absent uh-huh in response, moving over to the living room window and staring out. It felt like he wasn't entirely there, like the experience of the Silly Straw was still wearing off, despite the fact he was lucid.

Outside his window sat the town with its myriad of buildings. Some towered higher than his third floor apartment, while others he could look down onto and scowl when they were too noisy. He could get a good view of the sky though, finding some delight in the clear blue, unmarred by clouds.

"It looks so real," Gordon mumbled, barely audible over the television. 

Coomer turned it down slightly. "What was that, Gordon?"

"It looks real. So... real. Not flat like Black Mesa."

Bubby snorted. "You're just noticing this now?"

Gordon sipped from his straw again. "I just never thought about it." Blinking slowly, he kept his gaze outside. "I heard someone singing in my dream last night."

"Don't look at me." Bubby crossed his arms. "I don't sing."

"It wasn't me," Coomer added. "I only like to sing in the car!"

Gordon frowned. The television hadn't been loud enough to seep into his dreams, and both Bubby and Coomer hadn't been the culprit. It was possible that nothing in particular brought the song on, but there was this tiny thought in the back of his mind that insisted it had a place of origin.

Sunkist's nose jolted Gordon out of his thoughts. It pressed against his upper arm, and as Gordon turned to face the dog, he found it staring at him, just tall enough that his nose could graze Gordon's shoulder. "Oh, hey Sunkist. Did I worry you?"

There was no answer, but Sunkist leaned into Gordon's hand as he scratched behind the dog's ears. "Sorry buddy. The Silly Straw must have gotten to me."

Tommy put down his soda. "It can be very intense! It takes a lot of time to get used to the Silly Straw." He was smiling, and Gordon glanced from the straw to Tommy. "You'll get used to it, Mister Freeman."

"Thanks Tommy," Gordon answered. Sunkist gently took Gordon's shirt in his mouth and guided him over to the empty recliner, prompting him to sit down. Gordon obeyed, only to find Sunkist bringing over a plate of bacon and eggs. "Oh. Thanks Sunkist."

A content bark was given in response as Gordon offered a small piece of bacon as a reward before digging into his meal himself. It was surprisingly well cooked, considering he hadn't seen Bubby cook before. "Yo, this is good."

"I'm a master of the flames!" To prove his point, Bubby held his hand palm-up as a small fire exploded into being, sending a few tiny sparks flying into the air. Nobody flinched, which showed how used to the action they'd become.

Coomer clicked his fingers. "We should have a barbecue!"

"You're right!" Tommy agreed. "Mister Freeman, what do you think?"

"Where though? I can't exactly use the apartment's yard. Not after last time." Gordon's left hand tightened on his cutlery.

"We'll go to my house, my yard is huge! We can invite Darnold!" Tommy was grinning, and his good mood spread between them all. "We can do it tonight!"

Coomer and Bubby both nodded in agreement, voicing their own lack of plans. Gordon shrugged. "Why not?"

Tommy pumped a fist into the air, almost knocking his plate off his lap. "Awesome!" he cheered, accompanied by a victorious bark from Sunkist. There was just one question to ask. "So, what should we cook?"


	5. Nothing Bad Happens At The Dunkin Donuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for blood and corpses and stuff  
> Y'know, the Nothing Bad part of Dunkin Donuts

The four of them bundled into Gordon's beat up four wheel drive. Gordon was the driver, only because he refused to let Bubby do it again. There was a reason his car was all beat up.

"It was just a postbox," Bubby scowled, settling into the passenger seat with his feet pressed against the dashboard.

Gordon turned to look at him, gaze narrow as Coomer and Tommy got settled in the back seat. "A postbox, two light poles, an entire fence, and the postvan."

Bubby shrugged. "The neighbourhood was too crowded."

"You crossed three streets and narrowly avoided hitting a person!"

"It's their fault for standing on the footpath!"

Gordon and Bubby's argument continued as Tommy motioned for Sunkist to enter the car. He leapt up onto Tommy's lap, trying to snuggle down and get comfortable.

"No Sunkist, you have to sit in the middle," Tommy scolded, watching as the dog shuffled into the middle seat. Bubby reached out to smack Gordon on the back of the head and the two of them devolved into a mess of screeches and flailing limbs while Tommy and Coomer worked together to buckle Sunkist into the seat.

Coomer double checked the seatbelt before buckling himself in. "Does Sunkist like the car?"

"Yup!" Tommy nodded, reaching out to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Sometimes I like to take him out on the highway. It's his favourite place to go."

"A highway is any public or private road or other public way on land. It is used for major roads, but also includes-" 

The introduction of a Wikipedia article knocked both Bubby and Gordon out of their argument. "Okay!" Gordon shouted, drumming his hands on the steering wheel, "We're going!"

Tommy brightened. "Oh! Mister Freeman! Can you wind the windows down?"

Gordon turned his head back as he buckled himself in. "Sure thing Tommy. Sunkist will enjoy it, hey?"

As it turns out, the window being down wasn't for Sunkist but for Tommy instead. He sat with his head outside, grinning as the wind rushed past him. Gordon glanced at him through the side mirror as he drove, honestly stunned that Tommy could handle all the wind in his eyes.

"I'll never understand Eldritch beings," Bubby commented.

"Says the Clone," Coomer answered playfully.

"Says the Android," Gordon retorted.

"Says the Human," Tommy responded.

"Woof," Sunkist stated.

The four of them fell silent for a moment before exploding with laughter, Tommy falling back into his seat as he wrapped his arms around himself. It's a warm atmosphere thatsurrounds them, and none of them could complain.

Coomer withdrew his phone from his pocket, taking a blurry photo of Gordon in the driver's seat. He was grinning, Bubby's hand included in the shot resting on the gearstick. Tommy's feet were barely visible, pressed against the back of Gordon's chair and in the corner of the image was a spot of orange, courtesy of Sunkist.

Later on, the photo would go on the wall at Gordon's apartment.

"Hey," Gordon began, still trying to stifle his laughter. "Wanna get some coolatas at Dunkin Donuts?"

"Don't you hate coolatas, Gordon?" Coomer asked as Gordon pulled up to the intersection, preparing to turn. "I believe you said as such."

The light turned green and Gordon pressed the accelerator. "I do," he answered, eyes ahead as he turned the wheel. "But that doesn't mean that I've gotta buy one. I'll just get a coffee or something."

"I'll have one too," Bubby added as they pulled into the parking lot. There were a few cars there, which meant that getting service through the take-away window was probably going to be faster. Gordon drove the car into the narrow path and waited by the window to order, and yet nobody came. He moved to the second one and the same; no service.

Bubby scowled. "Park the car, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind."

"Not alone you're not," Coomer said, undoing his seatbelt as Gordon parked the car. Leaving them to go in alone would be a bad idea, prompting him to undo his seatbelt. Tommy did the same, unbuckling Sunkist too, if only to not be alone in the car.

Bubby's intense walk towards the store slowed as he approached the small zebra crosing. The lights were all off, blanketing the store in a darkness that was unnatural for a fast food restaurant, especially one at this hour. The rest of the Science Team came to a stop beside him, all taking in the image. Sunkist sat beside Tommy, letting out a gentle whine as he pushed into his master's hand.

"I-It's okay Sunkist," Tommy soothed, his stutter becoming noticeable. "They might be having a power outage."

Gordon didn't feel like that was the answer, but honestly he didn't have anything else to say. Taking a breath, he curled his fists and steeled his nerve.

Walking up to the door instilled a sense of dread that Gordon hadn't known since Black Mesa. Something twisted deep in his stomach as he grabbed the handle of the door, cold and sterile under his grip. There was hesitation there, and it seemed to spread to the rest of the Science Team as they all crowded behind Gordon, waiting for him to pull the door open.

The wave of blood and decay that flows out when Gordon pulls the door open is enough to startle even the Science Team. Sunkist darts away as Tommy covers his mouth, eyes watering at the stench. Bubby and Coomer don't cover their mouths, but they're certainly off-put by it, and considering how Gordon is retching onto the floor, it's certainly gotten to him.

Coomer takes the lead, gently squeezing past Gordon to step inside. He's only one step in when his shoe lands on something wet and slippery, and in the light let in from the door, Coomer knows exactly what it is. "We'll need some lights in here."

"I'll handle it," Bubby said, stepping into the building. He summoned a flame into his hand, then poured some of it into his other, leaving him with two burning palms. "Tell me where you need it."

Doctor Coomer nodded, gently guiding Bubby into the darkness. Tommy shuffled over to Gordon, gently setting a hand on his back. It startled Gordon, but he eased into the touch soon enough as Tommy rubbed circles into his back. "Are you okay, Mister Freeman?"

"Not really," he answered, spitting onto the pavement. "This isn't what I was expecting at the Dunkin Donuts."

"I wanted a Coolata," Tommy agreed. "Not a- a dead person."

Sunkist moved over to join them, tail between his legs as he pressed against Gordon and Tommy, trying to offer some comfort.

"I'll be fine, Tommy. Just give me a minute." Gordon offered him a smile, turning around to smile at the older man.

Tommy frowned. "Stay with him Sunkist," came the firm order from Tommy as he held a hand out, commanding Sunkist to say. Sunkist sat down beside Gordon, leaning against him entirely as Tommy entered the Dunkin Donuts. 

Slowly, Gordon began to time his breaths. In for five seconds, hold, out for seven. It probably wasn't the right timing but Gordon hadn't done his breathing exercises in a long time. 

Sunkist pressed against him and Gordon threaded his fingers into the dog's fur. "Shit's fucked, hey buddy."

"Woof," Sunkist answered, pressing his cold nose against Gordon's skin.

It was comforting. A grounding sensation that reminded Gordon where he was. "Hey... do you think you could help me into the place? I don't think I could go in there myself."

Sunkist tilted his head to the side, as if trying to process it. Gordon sighed, considering calling out for Tommy to help when Sunkist gently took Gordon's prosthetic hand in his mouth, grip gentle enough that it didn't break the attachment, but firm enough to lead him along.

"You're getting extra treats when we get home," Gordon said with a shaky smile. Sunkist didn't bark a response, but his tail did wag pleasantly from side to side, indicating he'd understood. "Alright boy, let's... let's go."

There was no light inside the restaurant save Bubby's flames, coating the counters where once, cashiers had taken orders. Now they were just coated in a sickly red that dripped from the edges of the counter like a spilled drink.

The only other source of light was the open door, now obscured as Gordon stood there. Sunkist gently pulled him into the room and Gordon entered, trying not to think about the blood underfoot. It was wet and fresh, each step punctuated by the sound, so much so that when Gordon stepped on a piece of clean tile, it startled him.

"Can't see shit in here," Gordon mumbled, trying to find his phone in his pocket. He found it in his back pocket, and as he unlocked it, he flicked on the torch, instantly illuminating a body splayed out at his feet. "Fuck!"

"Are you alright, Mister Freeman?" Tommy approached from a dark corner, steps punctuated with a wet splashing as he jogged over. It was a wonder he didn't slip and fall.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Gordon lifted his head to look at Tommy, pointing the light in his general direction. He could see the man holding a cup with a straw in it, which certainly hadn't been in his hands when they'd come in. "Uh, Tommy?"

He tilted his head. "Yeah Mister Freeman?"

"What's that in your hand?"

Tommy looked at it and then back to Gordon. "A Coolata."

"You-" Gordon took a breath and let it out. "Okay. Yeah, you wanted a Coolata."

"I did," Tommy answered. He took a sip of it, looking down at Sunkist. "Good boy Sunkist, thank you for helping Mister Freeman."

Gordon looked down at the dog fondly, rubbing the fur outside Sunkist's mouth with his thumb in some attempt to convey affection. It seemed to work. "Since you got the Coolata machine working," Gordon began, looking around at the lights overhead. "Any chance of getting the lights?"

With a shake of his head, Tommy replied. "Sorry Mister Freeman. Oh, but I can give you some light if you need it!" His response was cheerful, but it dampened quickly. "You just have to not panic."

"Panic?" Gordon repeated, getting a nod from Tommy. "Why would I- No, no Tommy I wouldn't freak out. I'm not scared of you or anything." He quickly held up a hand and Tommy held up both of his own, both trying not to offend the other. "It's- I promise I won't panic, Tommy."

"Promise?" There was something vulnerable in Tommy's tone, different from innocence. As if a reaction of fear from Gordon would genuinely tear him apart.

Holding out the hand with his phone in it, Gordon offered his pinky finger, making sure the phone light wasn't blinding Tommy. "Promise."

As Tommy linked his pinky finger with Gordon's, the hair on the younger man's arm stood on end. Tommy's eyes were normally some sort of brown but now it was changing, the whites of his eyes fading away under a layer of gold that seemed to envelop his vision entirely, only broken by a black slit manifesting, vertical like a cat.

Both above and below where his now-inhuman eyes were, the skin shifted and split, revealing two more sets of golden eyes, peering around as if still half asleep. The pupils were wide, but as they focused on Gordon, they sharpened into fine slits, alert and ready.

Gordon swallowed and ignored the shaking in his knees. "N-eyes. Nice. Ni-eyes. Nice eyes." His tongue tripped over the phrase, turning his play on words into an awkward stuttering mess.

Tommy laughed, all six of his eyes crinkling at the motion. "I surprised you, didn't I?"

"That's one way to put it," Gordon answered, tightening his pinky's grip on Tommy's own in some attempt to convey the fact he wasn't afraid, and refused to be. "Is that uh, is that all of them?"

Another eye opened in Tommy's forehead. "Nope!"

All seven eyes stared at Gordon, gazes all sharp and analytical. It made him feel uneasy, but he didn't want to offend Tommy. "If, perhaps, maybe I said I was a little scared- Not of you! But of the whole fact you're looking at me very strangely, would that be rude?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Tommy pulled his pinky away from Gordon's as he tried to cover the eye on his forehead. "I've never seen you from so many angles before!"

Gordon blinked. "You can see out of all of those?"

"Yeah," Tommy answered as he slowly lowered his hands. "But Dad says that Humans don't like being looked at so much, so I have to keep them closed."

Oh. That was... unexpected. Gordon nervously scratched at the back of his neck, phone still in his grip. "Well uh, I mean if you wanted to-"

Bubby's hands clamped down harshly on both Tommy and Gordon's shoulders, flames thankfully absent. "Listen here fuckers, I know we're having a lovely moment between friends here, but we're in a God damn bloodbath right now, so save all that nice shit for when we're done."

"Oh yeah!" Tommy turned his gaze back towards the dark corner he'd come from earlier. "Hey Mister Freeman, check this out!"

There was a moment of nothing which Bubby was thoroughly impressed by, interrupted by what looked like a wave of yellow light manifesting. It lit up the Coolata machine that Tommy had found, as well as a dining table nearby, a chair occupied by the bloodied and slightly dismembered body of a former customer, the blood-coated floor, and a few plastic cups.

"Whoa."

Tommy turned around to face Gordon, grinning as he did. All seven of his eyes glowed with a brilliant light that put Gordon's phone torch to shame, but even as the man's gaze focused on him, Gordon didn't find himself wincing in the light, able to meet at least one pair of Tommy's eyes. 

Bubby crossed his arms. "That's very impressive Tommy. Now, are you finished displaying that you're comfortable enough to show your inhuman traits, and ready to go back to investigating the corpse-filled Dunkin Donuts?"

"Right!" Tommy turned around again, taking a sip of the Coolata as he began to investigate, tailed by Gordon and Sunkist. Bubby sighed and shook his head, returning to Coomer's side and ignoring the fond smile the man offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Wayne's hlvrai channel.
> 
> Nothing bad happened.


	6. Rattling Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized upon uploading chapter 5 that I should have added this to it.
> 
> And so, you have a small update.

With Tommy's eldritch eyes to light the way, Gordon found it much easier to navigate the restaurant. He could also see the red staining Sunkist's paws, meaning that later on they'd have to give him a bath.

Conveniently, Tommy's eyes could look in independent directions, which in turn spread out the light beams.

"How does it look?" Gordon had asked as Tommy demonstrated.

"Tingly," Tommy had answered without elaboration.

With Sunkist still holding his hand, Gordon moved over to one of the dining tables. Tommy's light made it somewhat easier to see, but Gordon still used his own phone torch to get the finer details as Tommy busied himself investigating a corpe draped over a chair.

The table itself was relatively clean, discounting the Dunkin Donuts coffee that was spilled across the top of it. On the floor under the table was the body of a young man, splayed out in a strange pose that Gordon remembered as a 'rag-doll', something that the Science Team had mimicked quite often in their time exploring Black Mesa. Blood seemed to spill from an unseen wound, and as Gordon nudged the body with his foot, he noticed the few stray ribs protruding from the skin. "This really is a mess."

"I'll say!" Bubby's voice came from behind Gordon, startling him. He turned, finding Bubby with a hand full of gently flickering light. "Whoever did this acted without any kind of grace. There's blood everywhere, from the benches to the kitchen. Whatever happened here, there was no intention for there to be survivors."

"Bubby!

Coomer's voice came from the kitchen, gaining the older man's attention. Grumbling to himself, Bubby left to investigate, his steps accompanied by the splish-splash of blood that only seemed to be louder as he rounded the counter.

"I'm gonna go check on them, is that okay?" Having finished his Coolata, Tommy set it down on an empty table and looked to Gordon. "I haven't been in the kitchen yet."

"It's fine," Gordon waved Tommy off, listening to his steps fading away. It left just him and Sunkist in the dining room to investigate together. "So, you got any clues?"

Sunkist softly whined.

"I'll take that as a no."

Without Tommy's light source, or even Bubby's flames in the room, it was hard to get a scope of how big the place was, or even where Gordon was in it. The light from the door had faded slightly, a cloud coming to cover the sun which left a gloom that was difficult to navigate by.

The grip on his prosthetic hand had been relatively firm as both himself and Sunkist moved around the place, but as they approached a small booth, Sunkist let go of Gordon's hand and stood his ground, a low growl rising up in his throat.

Gordon paused. "What is it?" he asked, raising his phone torch. It barely illuminated the booth, but from what Gordon could see, it was almost pristine, with only a few stray drops of blood marring the otherwise pristine tabletop. "Whoa, that is strange."

Sunkist's growling persisted as Gordon got closer, trying to investigate the space. His light only illuminated one side of the booth, showing the empty chair and the table absent of food or corpses. As he came to a stop beside the table, he turned the light to the shadowed seat, eyes widening as Sunkist's growl turned into a bark.

"Oh fuck," Gordon managed to breathe as the Skeleton that was sitting there looked at him, bones rattling.

It launched across the table from its seat, one hand on the clean table as the other hand reached up to grab Gordon's face.

The last words Gordon managed before blacking out was "Oh fuck me!"


	7. Wake Up and Smell The Bonedust

The dull ache in Gordon's head was not a welcome sensation. It told him that he was going to have some damn fine bruising, and an inability to sleep on his right side for a day or so at the least.

With a grunt of discomfort, Gordon sat up, blinking away the dizziness as he tried to take stock of where he'd fallen. The floor beneath his hands didn't feel like tile or blood-slick linoleum. Instead, his fingers curled against what felt like dirt, littered with tiny rock-like clumps.

That immediately set off sirens in Gordon's head. Shaking away the surprise, he forced his eyes open to take in the surroundings.

Wherever he was, it wasn't the Dunkin Donuts, that's for sure.

For one, the sky above was a purple like Xen, although the streaks of crimson and gold that traced along it were certainly not Xen-like. The dirt wasn't either, a vibrant green that reminded Gordon of the radioactive sludge that had been all too common in Black Mesa. Idly, he thought that Coomer might like to try it.

Large skeletons of ancient beasts protruded from the ground, ribcages and femurs dotted around the landscape that added to the sheer scale of the place. Among them were what looked like withered trees, branches blackened and twisted in a way Gordon had never seen a plant grow.

All in all, it made him feel very uncomfortable. Especially considering he was lacking his HEV suit, his crowbar, and his gun. Having at least one of those things would have improved the situation tenfold.

Not wanting to stay in the strange alternate plane he'd found himself in, Gordon got to his feet. He was out in the open right now, and although he couldn't see any kind of sentient life here, he also didn't want to risk running into anything.

On his feet, Gordon ducked into the shadow of a partially buried hand, pressing against the palm. It provided a small amount of shelter, enough that it would protect him as he gathered his thoughts.

The last thing he remembered was being in the restaurant with Sunkist. The dog had been growling at something and so he'd raised his phone light to investigate. Then-

The skeleton. Gordon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. His phone wasn't here now, and neither were the keys to the car, which was the least of his problems but just served to compound the list of issues. "Great..."

As if sensing Gordon's growing list of problems, the ground began to rumble. Loud chittering, like that of an insect, began to fill the air, and Gordon peered around the skeletal remains of a thumb to watch as a wave of quadripedal bug-like creatures swept over a nearby hill, skin peeled back to reveal the same ivory bones that dotted the landscape. They looked to be the size of coyotes, but given the distance between himself and then, Gordon wasn't sure what they actually were, nor did he want to know.

"What the h-" the words caught in his throat as something wrapped itself over his mouth. Gordon struggled, reaching up to pull at what felt like cloth. It muffled all the noise he could make, and as he grabbed at it, he felt his wrists be tied up too, resulting in his hands being pressed flush against his skin, all the while stumbling backwards as something dragged him away.

Gordon tried to dig in his heels, hook his legs around anything in the scenery, but the force kept dragging him backwards. It was only when they were a decent way from Gordon's hiding place that the force let go.

With the sudden lack of opposing force, Gordon stumbled forward, pulling his hands from his face and fumbling with the cloth. His mind scrambled for words but they immediately vanished as the place he'd been standing only ten seconds ago was crushed under the thick, scaled paw of something Gordon couldn't even name. If the hand he'd been sheltering under had been huge, then this was monstrous, dwarfing the palm and its fingers as it crushed them into dust.

"What the fuck..." Gordon's mind, previously going a mile a minute, screeched to a halt. The creature continued its stroll, paw lifting to reveal the crushed remains of the skeletal hand that only moments before Gordon had been hiding beneath. "What the fuck.

"You're not supposed to be here."

The words cut deep into Gordon. It dug up memories of Black Mesa, spreading the taste of copper across his tongue and sparking a painful throb in his right arm where his flesh ended and his prosthetic began. There was no way. No fucking way that He was here.

"Dude, how did you even get here?"

Gordon turned slowly, fists tightly balled and teeth grit. He didn't want it to be that person- that thing. That creature that had tormented them and befriended them and broken all their hearts with necessity and harsh words and the way things had to be.

But as Gordon turned around fully, he found himself focusing on the midnight blue helmet that Benry always wore, and the thick security guard vest that served to protect him from the thousands of bullets that had flown wildly in the corridors of Black Mesa.

Except there was something different. The vest had holes in it and the helmet was scuffed and scratched. Even as Gordon looked to Benry's face, he couldn't see a trace of that playful smirk or any hint of Benry thinking about what kind of trouble to make. 

He just looked tired.  
And scared.

With the slightest hint of irritation, Benry repeated his question. "How did you get here?"

"I-" Gordon sighed, entire body slumping. "One of your God-damn Skeletons attacked me!"

Benry's eyes widened, which was unexpected. "Wha."

"Your Skeletons!" Gordon closed the gap between them, grabbing Benry by the collar. The man didn't fight back and Gordon found himself internally grateful for it. "Your stupid Skeleton friends came into a Dunkin Donuts and- I dunno, killed everyone?" He wasn't sure of the situation, but it wasn't a far cry to assume the Skeletons were behind all the bodies. "They like, painted the Dunkin Donuts in blood man. Whole place is fucked up and your- Your fucking Skeletons! One of them attacked me!"

"Huh?" Benry blinked in confusion. Gordon grit his teeth, winding back a hand to punch the Security Guard right in the jaw when "-wait a second."

"One. Two-" The counting was cut off as Benry clamped a hand over Gordon's mouth and dragged him into the shadow of some twisted tree, narrowly avoiding the gaze of something that Gordon was too afraid to look at, judging by the shadow it cast.

In a hushed whisper, Benry spoke. "The Skeletons aren't my friends, bro. We worked together, sure, but it was because we had to. We come from the same place."

Gordon pulled the hand off his mouth. "What do you mean?" he hissed.

"This place. Here. S'where we live." There wasn't a hint of humour or play in Benry's words, which only served to make Gordon uneasy. He looked around at the place and felt his head spin. "Kinda shit, hey."

"Looks kinda shit," Gordon agreed. Benry hummed in agreement, and for a moment the two of them stood there. "So, you didn't send the Skeletons to attack me?"

"Nope." Benry let go of Gordon, giving him some space. "They're probably trying t'get a passport or something. Y'know, so they can leave here."

Gordon blinked.

Then he blinked again.

"Sorry, did you say passport?"

Benry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You going deaf, little man? Clumsy boy lost his hearing?"

Gordon shook his head. He couldn't get weighed down in Benry's little games right now. "They're after a passport?"

"Yup." Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Benry continued. "Probably trying to get you to order them one. They used to have one, remember?"

It was true. Gordon remembered the Skeleton that they'd met in the hole, and how it had brandished a passport alongside Benry. "Wait. Why do they need a passport? Can't they just, y'know, leave wherever the hell this is."

"What, and get deported by Space Cops?" Benry spoke like it was the most obvious thing. "No way man, you're crazy. You're talking wack."

"I hate you." Gordon crossed his arms, trying not to lash out. "You and your freaky fucking Skeletons."

"They ain't mine bro!" Benry threw his hands into the air. "Look, you gotta go home man. Space Cops might come getcha, and if they don't, then the other creatures that live here might. You got your passport?"

The word made Gordon flinch, but he nodded. Ever since the Black Mesa incident, he'd gotten his passport reissued and kept it on him at all times. Just in case something happened, to soothe the voice in the back of his head that insisted he know where it is at all times.

Uncrossing his arms, Gordon reached into his pocket. He expected it to be missing, alongside his phone and wallet but there it was, sitting in his back pocket like nothing had changed.

"Here." Gordon held it out towards Benry. It was taken from him, and he watched as Benry quickly looked it over. "What, not good enough?"

"No, no it's fine." Benry handed it back to him. "Now you gotta trust me. The things here are getting suspicious."

Gordon huffed a laugh. "Sure they're not suspicious of you?"

Benry's face was blank. "I only look like this so you don't piss yourself, Feetman."

Something in those words made Gordon feel uneasy. His voice came out quiet. "What do I do?"

"Hold your passport tight and think about your home." Benry stood beside Gordon, placing one hand on his shoulder and sliding his foot behind Gordon's own. "Don't stop thinking about it."

Gordon turned his head back. "Why would I-"

The entire world shifted. Benry's hand on his shoulder became forceful and as Gordon began to lean backwards, Benry's foot swept forward, knocking Gordon's legs out from under him.

His body entered freefall, as if the ground had fallen out from below, leaving him to plummet forever. It reminded him of Xen, in the few times he'd fallen off the edge and only just managed to hang on to some stray edge. His heart raced, but as his body tilted backwards, Gordon caught sight of Benry's face.

There was concern there, and Gordon tightened his grip on the passport, trying to focus.

He wanted to go home.

Home to where his apartment was. Where the photos of his friends were, and where Sunkist waited, and where Tommy would tell him about Nuclear Reactors, where Coomer would recite a wikipedia article for something he'd found lying around, and Bubby would complain about how annoying it was.

Hell, Gordon wanted to taste whatever flavour of Powerade Darnold had come up, or see how Forzen's youtube channel was going, or even ask Mister Coolata for the fifteenth time about Chuck E Cheese being a restaurant.

Gordon wanted all of that.

He wanted to not to his house, but to his Home.

With them.

And as he thought of Home, the world felt as if it didn't exist.  
And Gordon fell asleep.


	8. I Think Something Bad Happened At The Dunkin Donuts

The first thing Gordon noticed was the fact he was in motion. There was a gentle force being applied to him that kept him pressed into something soft. An indistinct conversation made its way to his ears, and after a second, Gordon managed to place it as the low hum of the radio.

"He's fine Sunkist," came a voice from above him, making Gordon grumble ever so slightly. Now that he had some kind of understanding where he was, he noticed that his head was elevated higher than the rest of his body, and resting on something particularly bony, digging into the back of his skull. "Stop worrying so much."

A whine next to Gordon's ear told him that Sunkist was there.

Right. Sunkist was a dog.

The pieces started to click back into place. He'd been in the Dunkin Donuts, trying to get a coffee, then the place had been covered in blood and corpses so the Science Team had gone to investigate. Then, a Skeleton had leapt at him and-

"Benry!" Gordon sat up sharply, arms flailing to grab something. His right hand found the backseat headrest of a car, while his left was left grasping at open air.

His empty hand was grabbed, and Gordon turned sharply to see Coomer holding it, both his weathered hands keeping it secure. "It's alright, Gordon."

"Stop freaking out back there," Bubby spat, sat in what Gordon now recognized as the driver's seat. His eyes were on the road, following traffic laws in a very un-Bubbylike way. "I might crash."

Everyone in the car knows that he won't, but they don't bring it up. Instead, Tommy gently set a hand on Gordon's shoulder, trying to make his presence known. "Are you alright, Mister Freeman? You hit your head pretty hard."

His head really did hurt, which made him grumble as he eased himself back into Tommy's lap, shifting so the man's bony legs didn't dig into him. Gordon's hand slipped out of Coomer's grip, and the older scientist shifted in his seat so he could look at both Tommy and Gordon. "You may have a concussion, Gordon. Or maybe even death! Do you feel like you're dead, Gordon?"

Gordon didn't feel like he was dead. He did however feel like he'd had a near-death experience.

"Hey, what were you saying about Benry?" Tommy asked, one hand resting on Gordon's shoulder to keep him laying down, the other patting Sunkist (who was sitting in the footwell) and making sure the dog was behaving.

"I uh, after the Skeleton knocked me out, I saw Benry." Gordon twirled his thumbs, trying to get his thoughts in order. "On this weird planet. Like, it wasn't Xen. It was..."

He explained it to them in detail, trying to pin down all the little things he hadn't noticed in the moment. The Science Team was silent as he spoke. Even Bubby didn't bother to offer a snide comment, and in the silence Gordon could hear him using the car's indicator. He must really be worried.

When Gordon finished his story, the silence weighed down on them all. Bubby was driving slowly, and as he turned the wheel to pull into a street, Coomer raised his voice. "Gordon, I think something bad happened in the Dunkin Donuts."

"No shit!"

The car lurched to a halt as Bubby spoke, handbrake clicking into place. "The Dunkin Donuts was fucked up!"

"It was pretty bad, but- but it could have been worse!" Tommy opened his door, letting Sunkist jump out. "It only violated two OSHA regulations!"

"That's an improvement!" Coomer opened his door and hopped out. 

Tommy moved to do the same but paused. "Mister Freeman?"

"Huh? Oh." He sat up, taking a moment to work out where they were. Tommy slipped out of the car as he did, moving around to the trunk of the car and opening it. "Hey uh, where are we?"

Bubby turned around in his chair to look at Gordon, kneeling on the seat as he draped his arms over the back of the chair, head atop the headrest. "We're at Tommy's. We heard you yell and then Sunkist started going crazy, so we came out. By the time we got there, the Skeleton was looming over you, trying to pry open your mouth."

"It was singing to your skeleton Mister Freeman!" Tommy cheerfully called, voice muffled as he bent into the trunk to grab something. "It wanted to possess you for something."

"A passport..." Gordon raised a hand to his head as he got comfortable in the back seat. "It wanted a passport."

Bubby raised an eyebrow behind his glasses. "A passport?"

The trunk slammed shut and Tommy appeared at the open car door. Coomer followed a moment later, his normally cheerful expression now gone. "I think we should talk to Mister Coolatta about this."

Tommy nodded. "My dad will know what to do. He- he's always got this stuff. He helped me get my passport!"

Knowing Tommy's heritage and what Benry had told him in that strange world, there was a different weight to that statement. It made Gordon frown. "Yeah. Yeah, let's- Let's get inside."

Gordon's apartment was modest. The house Coomer and Bubby shared was nice enough.

Tommy lived in a mansion.

That wasn't an exaggeration. Mister Coolatta was a man with influence, and he used it to make things easier for his son. Of course, Tommy insisted he wasn't just handed everything. He really did graduate from college by himself with two PhD's, and even though his father had referred him to Black Mesa, he'd proven himself time and time again, earning his place there despite his childish nature.

Still, when his father had offered to help Tommy design and build a house for himself and Sunkist, and offered to help fund it as compensation for some of his... less than amazing parenting decisions, well Tommy had been smart enough to say yes.

Coomer was waiting at the front door for Bubby and Gordon while Tommy went ahead. Contacting his father could be an affair, and the sooner they had the meeting, the better.

Sunkist followed with a plastic bag in his mouth, and now Gordon noticed the bag on Coomer's wrist. "What's uh, what's with the bag?"

Coomer looked to the bag and then to Gordon. "We're having a barbeque!"

"But we- We were just at the Dunkin Donuts! When did you-"

Bubby set a hand on Gordon's shoulder, silencing him and pushing him towards the house. "It's like five in the evening Gordon. We couldn't wait all day for you to wake up, so after we kicked the hell out of that Skeleton, we made ourselves some more coolattas, threw you back into the car and went shopping."

"Doctor Bubby bought us lunch too!" Coomer chimed in as they passed over the threshold to the house. "It was very nice. We went to Taco Bell and had Baja Blasts!"

Gordon glared at Bubby. "I love Baja Blast!"

"Well don't get attacked by Skeletons and I'll take you there!" Bubby answered, removing his hand from Gordon's shoulder and strolling down the hallway to the kitchen. Gordon watched him leave, scowling.

The front door clicked shut and Coomer appeared beside Gordon, bending down to untie his shoes. Gordon copied a second later.

"Was Benry well?" Coomer asked as he fiddled with the knot on his shoes.

Gordon paused mid-knot. "Uh..." He wan't quite sure how to answer. "He was alive?"

"That's good." Coomer slipped his shoe off, getting to work on the other one. "He didn't want to be evil, Gordon. It was just the way the script worked."

Coomer's words made him pause. They'd briefly talked about Benry's actions after escaping Black Mesa, but between the flashbacks, the raw feeling of betrayal that still hurt even now, and trying to rebuild his life, Gordon hadn't stopped to think about it. "Is that..."

"Why he tried to stop us from going into the portal?" Coomer finished. Gordon sighed. He remembered Benry insisting they go back into the other room with the supplies, how they should just go to bed and ignore everything. Get some sleep. Go home.

And all he'd done was insist he wanted to kill a Space God.

Even in Xen, Benry had tried to make them turn back once more, but there was nothing they could do. "How long did he know?"

Removing his other shoe, Coomer raised an eyebrow. "Know what, Gordon?"

"He said at the end, that he knew it was all coming. Some of it was that bullshit about the dick slip but-"

Coomer shuffled over to fiddle with Gordon's laces, noticing his lack of action. "Benry knew that he was going to be the villain after he'd assisted Bubby in getting you knocked out." There was no eye contact as Coomer worked away. "He... He was antagonistic just because it was fun, and then when he and Bubby worked out the military was tracking us through your suit, well they thought _you_ were the reason we were trapped in the facility."

A silence hung between them. Both of Gordon's laces were undone now, but Coomer didn't move to stand. "When they cut your arm off Gordon, the script gave him the flag. From there, we couldn't go back."

Gordon flexed his prosthetic hand, registering the motion but no sensation. "Did he regret it?"

"He regret getting Bubby put in his tube," Coomer answered. "But you Gordon? He never said."

Thinking of Benry's actions; how he'd protected him in that strange otherworld, sent him home, kept him safe, and how even in Black Mesa he'd tried to postpone their boss fight until the last moment. If Gordon thought hard enough, he could see regret there. "He never was the kind of guy to say it aloud, huh."

"No Gordon." Coomer got to his feet, meeting Gordon's eyes with a tired, sorrowful gaze. "I don't think he was."

Slowly, Gordon raised a hand to his face, touching at his cheek. It was damp. "I-"

"-Gordon, are you coming!" Bubby's voice echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. 

It startled Gordon, while Coomer simply turned and plastered a grin on his face. "We're on our way Bubby!" he answered before turning back to Gordon who was busy removing his shoes. "If it means anything Gordon, and I'm sure it may, Benry really did enjoy being around you."

Such simple words, yet they made Gordon's heart skip a beat. He smiled, patting a hand on Doctor Coomer's shoulder as he passed him by. "Thanks Doc."

Coomer grinned. "Anytime, Gordon!"

The somber air lingered in the hallway, thick like a fog that clung to both Gordon and Coomer as they passed by a door on their left that led to the cinema-grade living room, but as they entered the kitchen-dining room hybrid, the smell of something cooking immediately banished it.

"You didn't fall out of reality again did you, Harold?" Bubby asked. He was standing by the kitchen bench, skewering small pieces of meat that they'd bought at the store.

Coomer set his bag on the bench beside Bubby's cooking supplies. "I was telling Gordon about shoelaces. Shoelaces, also called shoestrings (US English) or bootlaces (UK English), are a system commonly used-"

Gordon set a hand on Coomer's shoulder, silencing him. "I don't need to hear it again, but thank you."

"Tommy's outside getting set up. He wanted to make sure everything was safe and compliant with the barbecue's manual or something." Bubby set aside a skewer and starting another. Coomer moved over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, eager to assist. "I do believe his father is out there too."

Gordon turned his head to the right, gazing through the large wall-length window to the backyard. It was huge, with vibrant green grass kept at an acceptable length, an undercover dining area to relax in, and a small granny flat in the corner of the yard that was almost as big as Gordon's apartment.

Tommy stood in the covered dining area, attending to a gas cannister beside the barbecue they were scheduled to be cooking on. Tommy was bent down, fiddling with a hose while beside him stood who Gordon could only assume to be G-Man himself, although the evening's setting sun cast such a brilliant light into the kitchen/dining room combo that it left the man as only a silhouette.

"Being honest here? Kinda nervous to talk to him." Gordon grabbed at his prosthetic hand, tracing his fingers over the joints, feeling the metal beneath them. He hadn't much experience with the man, but what little he did have only added to the terrifying, ominous atmosphere that he seemed to radiate.

Coomer set a skewer of vegetables onto the tray beside the meat and nudged it towards Gordon. "Take this out to them," he said, smiling. "It's your segue."

"Just don't let them cook it," Bubby added, putting another skewer onto the tray. "I'm very particular about how my food is cooked."

Gordon laughed. "Of course." He grabbed the tray, focusing on the metal beneath his fingers. "Thanks, guys."

Bubby's cheeks turned crimson, causing him to sharply turn away. "Yes well, it's what we do. As friends."

Friends. 

This might have been the first time Bubby had called him a friend.

A smile settled on Gordon's lips as he moved towards the sliding door leading to the undercover dining area. "Does that mean I'll get affected by your Friend Beam now?"

Opening the door, Gordon stepped out into the evening air, grinning as he heard Bubby's response just before the door shut behind him.

"Like hell it will!"


	9. The Title Drop

The evening was cool, sun burning a gold in the sky as it slowly dipped beyond the horizon. It set the clouds alight, and as the chilled breeze of the coming night ruffled Gordon's clothes, he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. "Chilly..."

"Oh, are you cold Mister Freeman?" Tommy stood up, having finished with the gas canister. His eyes were tucked away again, leaving him with only two, like when they'd met. "I can set up the heater if you'd like."

"Please," Gordon answered, handing over the tray of food. "You uh, you closed your eyes."

Tommy smiled nervously. "I'm still not used to having them open near people."

"I think it looks cool!" Gordon answered enthusiastically, placing both hands on Tommy's shoulders. "You don't have to hide who you are around us Tommy, you know that."

"Still..." Tommy trailed off, but the grin on his face showed he was considering Gordon's words. "I-I'll think about it."

"It's important to look at every aspect... isn't it Tommy?"

G-Man's voice startled Gordon. He withdrew his hands, quickly shoving them behind his back. Tommy merely turned to his father and nodded. "I'll keep them open if that's- that's what you're meaning!" There was an enthusiasm to his words as he set the tray down beside the barbecue and dashed off towards the table and chairs set up just a few feet away. In the corner was a heater, and he quickly moved to get it working, leaving just Gordon and G-Man together.

"Mister Freeman, I hear that you... had quite the incident in the Dunkin... Donuts, was it?" The way G-Man spoke made Gordon pause, trying to piece together the intent behind his words. Perhaps that was where Tommy got his stutter from.

"You could say that," Gordon answered, bringing his hands to his waist. "I was attacked by a Skeleton, and I met Benry again."

The words seem to surprise G-Man. "Tommy did say that it... was interesting. However he did not choose to elaborate on that. Perhaps he knew that... you were the one who would explain it best?"

For G-Man to say that, and for him to believe his son's words that Gordon could only give all the details, well that was as close to a compliment as he'd get right now. "Can we- Can we sit down? It's a long story and I'm not gonna lie, I'm still a little fucked up from it."

G-Man gestured to the table. "By all means, Mister Freeman. Let me get us a drink first, and then we shall... begin?"

It was an interesting situation, to say the least. Gordon thought about how strange it was as he sat at the outdoor dining table, nursing a Long Island Ice Tea. He needed a hard drink, and he was not going to let G-Man and Tommy's generosity go unused.

Across from him sat G-Man himself, fingers tracing along the rim of his own cocktail; a mix of vodka, vermouth, and blood orange. Of course, given the strange semi-radioactive glow the concoction seemed to radiate, there was potential something else was also in there.

Bubby was tending to the barbecue, cooking the skewers and other meats to perfection. The scent of marinated and spiced meats hung in the space, mingling with the warmth of the heater Tommy had dragged over. It put Gordon at ease, comboing with the alcohol to numb the anxiety he normally felt when talking to Tommy's father.

Coomer and Tommy had been partially listening to Gordon's retelling, seated at the end of the table along with Sunkist. Tommy was explaining how to read Sunkist's Sweet Voice, since the voice that dogs used was different to people.

All in all, it was a very strange atmosphere to be having a conversation about being attacked by Skeletons in a Dunkin Donuts.

"-And then he knocked my feet out from under me!" Gordon sipped at his drink, lowering it back down to the table gently. "It felt like I was falling, but also like I was being pulled forwards at the same time. When I woke up, I was back in the car with everyone else."

G-Man's finger stilled on the rim of his cup. "Mister Freeman, are you telling me the _whole_ truth?" he asked, voice level and calm. "Without any ommissions you deem... unimportant to the scenario?"

Gordon sat up straighter. "Yes sir," he answered. "That's what happened. I even told the others the same."

Tommy looked away from Sunkist and Coomer to chime in. "You didn't say you thought about us."

"Well it was embarrassing." Gordon felt his face darken as he looked to Tommy, struggling to meet his eyes. "I mean, admitting that you guys were my Home."

The confession meant nothing to G-Man. He seemed stuck in thought, raising his drink to his mouth and sipping as he rolled around concepts. "I think," he began, lowering his cup slightly, "we may need to, have a group discussion."

Coomer turned to join the conversation, a hand ruffling Sunkist's fur. "Is this something unexpected, Mister Coolata?"

There was a nod from G-Man. "Something that the... script did not account for, in the slightest.

The response made Coomer's gleeful expression vanish. "Very serious then, I assume."

Gordon looked to Coomer and Sunkist, blinking absently for a moment before smacking his forehead. "The photo!"

He reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone, choosing to ignore the blood on it as he opened up Tommy's message and held the photo out towards G-Man. The phone was taken from him, a grave expression settling as G-Man spoke. "We must discuss this, and soon."

"Can it wait until the food is done?" Bubby asked, holding up a partially cooked chicken wing.

"I suppose," G-Man answered, sliding the phone back to Gordon. "Although some may not have an appetite, when the information is, well, revealed to us."

The five of them sat at the table quietly, a stale and concerned air overtaking the odd joy from before. Tommy sat at the head of the table, G-Man to his left and Gordon to his right. Beside G-Man sat Coomer, and opposite him, Bubby. Sunkist sat at the other end of the table, patiently waiting to be given the command to eat.

In front of them all were various platters of meats and salads, alongside little finger foods like cheese and crackers. The food itself more suited a friendly and jovial barbecue like they'd intended, not the somber and uneasy meeting they were about to have.

G-Man grabbed the salad tongs and scooped some lettuce onto his plate. "Doctor Freeman, are you aware of what Black Mesa was researching?"

Gordon blinked. "Something about interdimensional travel?"

"That is correct. The specimen you inserted into the Anti-Mass Spectrometer, 'GG-3883', was a Xen crystal, designed to operate at the appropriate frequency to open a portal."

"You told me about that," Tommy commented, spearing a sausage from one of the platters and bringing it to his plate. "You wanted to- to uh, establish some form of two-way connection with Xen and the borderworlds, right?"

Coomer leaned forward. "We also wanted to see if we could transfer matter via the connection," he added.

G-Man nodded. "My employers advised me to... supply Black Mesa with the sample, and so I did."

"Wait," Gordon sat up straighter, grip tight on his glass. "So you orchestrated all of that? With your own son in the building?"

"I did try to ask my dear Tommy not to attend-"

"I wanted to go!" Tommy quickly cut in, his additional eyes opening in surprise. "I knew something was going to happen, but I wanted to go to work so-" His outburst slowed and he sank back into his chair, eyes downcast. "It's not his fault."

The silence stretched for a moment, uncomfortable for all but G-Man, who Gordon assumed did not possess the more human quality of discomfort. "In any case, Doctor Freeman, it was your actions which caused the Resonance Cascade to occur, although it was not your fault, if one can believe a blame is to be laid."

Bubby focused his gaze on the steak before him, not wanting to make a comment about how he'd seen something wrong in the calculations and yet let the test proceed.

Sipping his drink, G-Man set it back on the table. "My employers had intended for the creatures of Xen to enter this world, but they had not been aware that a creature from... beyond the borderworlds had already crossed over before the main event."

"Benry," Gordon stated factually. "He'd come over in previous experiments."

"Correct," G-Man answered, a hint of praise in his voice. "You're understanding. With Benry's presence inside the test chamber, the Resonance Cascade's effects were more pronounced than what had been expected. Rather than... maintaining the flow of creatures, my employers found themselves, well, faced with a flood. One they could not stem with... Benry... still acting as a catalyst."

Both Coomer and Bubby leaned in at those words, the latter being first to speak. "Are you saying that Benry was the reason the portal was remaining open."

"Like a funnel!" Coomer said, clicking his fingers. "We did manage to close the portal shortly after its inception, but the creatures still came through! They were funnelling into our world from Xen."

A nod from G-Man told Coomer that his hypothesis was right. A softly hissed 'yes!' escaped him, although he quickly smothered his excitement and motioned for G-Man to continue. He did so, idly cutting up some of the meat he'd acquired from a platter. "At the time we did not... know Benry was not from Xen, although with your description of the place you encountered him... I suspect it is a world very loosely connected, which may explain why you needed to kill him."

"But he was alive," Gordon quickly stated.

"Death is not permanent for all," G-Man answered, silencing him. "In any case, think of Benry's home as a spool of thread, and Benry as someone pulling at it. The Xen portal wouldn't close, because Benry had... in a matter of speaking, woven the thread through the worlds. From his world, through a portal to Xen, and then to Earth, and then back to Xen through another hole."

Tommy listened intently to their conversation, shifting in his chair as he tried to focus his thoughts. "Is it like," he began, words slow and clumsy, "Benry was pulling the thread, and when we killed him, he let go, and it all snapped back?"

"An excellent observation, Tommy." G-Man grinned at his son. "With Benry dead, his... essence returned to his home world, and the thread that connected him to it across worlds was destroyed. That, in turn, permitted the portal to close."

"That's all well and good," Gordon said, finger tracing the rim of his cup idly, "but what about me? What does that have to do with me? Because it does, right?"

G-Man looked to Gordon, his smile now gone. "You are the starting point for many things, Doctor Freeman. It was you who encountered the three men who would join you in escaping Black Mesa. You were the one to draw Benry's interest. It was your hands that pushed the sample into the Anti-Mass Spectrometer. All the events start with you, even if you were not aware of it."

Something about those words made Gordon uncomfortable. There was a conclusion here he was missing, and G-Man looked almost unsure if he wanted to deliver it. "What is it, Mister Coolata. Tell me."

"Everything that happens," G-Man began, "can be traced back to you. To borrow from before, the thread everyone holds, through all the twists and turns, traces back to you, and will in the future, return to you. Like a tent peg holding things in place, counterbalanced by other events running alongside you."

Gordon's finger stilled on the rim of his glass. "It all stems from me, huh."

"You are the Anchor Point for all things," G-Man stated plainly. "From where all stems and shall return."

A mild sense of nausea burned in Gordon's body, running over him like a cold flush. "Why... Why me..."

Gordon's senses went dark before he could hear the answer.


	10. Is Water Wet, and Other Important Questions We Have To Ask About Reality

When Gordon woke up, he didn't find himself on an alien planet or in a car. Instead, it was the exact same place he'd passed out; on the table outside. His glass of alcohol had been moved out of the way, as had his food, leaving him room to slump over the table.

"How long was I out?" Gordon grumbled, sitting up.

G-Man sipped at his drink. "Two minutes and seventeen seconds."

"I'm glad you're awake!" Tommy commented, cheek full of food. His seven eyes gazed at Gordon curiously, and the man offered a smile in return.

"Were you worried about me?" Gordon asked.

"Nope!" Tommy replied.

"We were worried about your food!" Coomer added a moment later. "Mister Coolata says it's poor manners to fall asleep in your food, and he respects you too much to let you appear so foolish!"

Bubby snorted. "I would have just let you sleep in it, honestly."

"I'm glad we worked on majority vote." Scowling, Gordon grabbed his drink and sipped at it, gathering his thoughts. An Anchor Point. The origin of the Resonance Cascade and its events. "It all stems from me, huh? How're we gonna stop it."

G-Man folded his hands on the table. "I am waiting for my employers to... contact me. They have been informed of the occurences, and are deliberating on a course of action."

"Huh, that was quick," Gordon said.

G-Man merely smiled in a somewhat unsettling manner.

The conversation abated as they continued eating. Occasionally someone would speak, but only to ask for some cutlery, or to pass down a platter. Besides that, there was only the sound of distant traffic, fading birdsong, and the clatter of forks and knives.

Pushing away his finished plate, Bubby leaned back in his chair. "We could always kill Gordon."

"I'm sorry, what!" Sharply standing, Gordon slammed his hands down on the table.

"The skeletons appearing here seem to be because of you, and they're using you as a vessel to try and open some kind of portal or something," Bubby explained. "So if we kill you, then they'd have no connection here."

Doctor Coomer brightened, having busied himself with feeding Sunkist a sausage. "Excellent idea, Doctor Bubby! We should kill Gordon!" To punctuate his sentence, Coomer withdrew a small pistol he'd kept in his waistband and levelled it at Gordon's head.

"I know, right!" Reaching below the table, Bubby pulled out his own pistol and leveled it at Gordon. "Simple answers for simple problems!"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Gordon held up his hands defensively, trying not to provoke anyone. "I don't think that's gonna solve anything!"

"Yeah!" Tommy stood up sharply, holding what appeared to be some kind of semi-automatic machine gun straight out of Black Mesa. "We can't just kill Mister Freeman!"

The words would have meant a lot more if the gun hadn't been trained on Gordon and instead rested on Bubby, who had become the subject of Tommy's seven-eye-stare.

In desperation, Gordon looked to G-Man, only to find himself staring down the barrel of yet another pistol. "It would, in fact, be a relatively simple answer," G-Man stated, looking past the gun at Gordon. "Although my employers seem to be somewhat split on the idea."

Gordon had no words. Four different guns were trained on him by men who he knew to have the least reliable trigger fingers. Even Mister Coolata had shown to adhere to Tommy's 'squeeze the trigger constantly' mentality, displayed most promininently when Gordon had made the poor decision to invite them all to a paintball game.

"Wait!" Coomer quickly lowered his gun, pointing it at Gordon's leg instead. Tommy and Bubby copied the motion, while G-Man simply set his weapon down on the table. "You said that Boper is connected to Gordon. The Skeletons are connected to Bippy. That's how the Skeletons are coming here; by using Barney's connection as a middleman."

Tommy understood immediately. "So if we have Benry here with us, then the Skeletons can't come here."

G-Man paused. "I need to consult with my employers. Please excuse me." Taking his glass, G-Man moved towards the house, opening the sliding door. Gordon turned, and found only empty space where there most certainly should have been someone.

"I'm not sure if this plan will work," Bubby began, setting his gun back in his waistband, "But I suppose we can forego killing Gordon for some time. Still not sure about having Benry back with us."

"Me neither man," Gordon answered. "But I don't want to die, and he didn't seem as evil as last time."

 **"The Script."** was all Doctor Coomer added before putting his gun away. "Come now Gordon, we should finish eating!"

Gordon slumped into his chair, an action copied by the others. "Yeah," he said, half-heartedly spearing some lettuce. "I guess we should."

G-Man didn't return for the rest of the meal, although nobody thought to mention it. Instead, they found themselves engaged in an intense debate over whether water was wet. At some point, Darnold and Forzen had shown up, both bringing desserts and bad opinions to the table.

After a particularly divisive comment by Doctor Coomer, Forzen had slid Gordon a gun across the table and invited him to join the Mexican Standoff currently happening.

"Where've you been?" Gordon asked as the others busied themselves with angry threats and Tommy trying elaborately to sway Bubby onto the 'Water is Wet' team.

Forzen grinned. "After I got called back to YouTube HQ, they sent me back into Black Mesa. Sirens and shit were going off, and Darnold was looking a bit confused. Ended up grabbing him and legging it out of the facility."

"I haggled for extra cash, since the higher ups wanted to kill Forzen for knowing too much," Darnold quickly cut in before turning his head to Tommy and exclaiming "Fire burns things but can't be burned! Water wets things but can't be wet!" and aiming his pistol at Tommy.

"He rarely breaks his anti-violence rule," Forzen stage-whispered to Gordon who simply nodded. "Anyway, we try to stay out of Black Mesa's way."

"Understandable," Gordon answered. He wanted to stay away from Black Mesa too, which was why he only dealt with them through his therapist.

A therapist he should probably call. That'd be a problem for the morning.

Gordon finished his meal just as the first shot was fired. It was by Tommy, and it hit Doctor Coomer's plate, shattering it into pieces. Doctor Coomer merely blinked before continuing with his statement that Water wasn't Wet.

"Have fun guys," Gordon merely answered as he moved inside. The sun had set, and now the house was blanketed in darkness, although he quickly fixed that by flicking on the lights in the kitchen. Outside already had the lights on, which is why Gordon could see Bubby pick up a plate and loft it at Forzen.

Grabbing a drink from the fridge, Gordon rounded the large kitchen bench and moved away from the entrance hallway. There was another door that led to the rest of the house, and the already muffled argument was silenced as he closed the door behind him.

The hallway was an inverted L shape, hanging a sharp left that passed by Tommy's bedroom. At the end of the hallway was a staircase, as well as a small in-ground pool, perfect for the summer.

Upstairs opened up into a secondary living room, perfect for relaxing during a party or just getting a moment to breathe when the pool antics had turned from jovial play to semi-serious death matches. Connected directly to the 'Vibe Station' as it had been dubbed, was the rumpus room and storage cupboard, while down the hallway was Tommy's lab and Sunkist's rather large bedroom, and around the U-shaped corner was the guest bedroom. It was rather out of the way, but considering none of them really stayed at Tommy's house overnight, none of them thought to complain.

It was better than living in the granny flat in the garden, where G-Man had taken up residence. That place was as cold as the arctic. At least, according to Tommy it was. When the Science Team had pressed him for answers, he merely laughed it off and refused to elaborate. Funnily enough, Tommy did that about a lot of stuff.

Gordon shook the thought away from his head and sat down on the guest room bed. It was a double bed, large and comfortable, much like everything in the room. A large dresser, large vanity, large ensuite bathroom. Most of it was for show, but on occassion there would be a use for those things. Now though, Gordon just wanted a space to think.

The Anchor Point. Benry being tied to him. Bringing Benry here and severing the ties to the Skeletons. Gordon ran a hand down his face, other still holding the can of drink he'd grabbed from the fridge. If the idea of Benry being a thread woven between planes was a consistent idea, then wouldn't bringing him here simply weave Benry's home plane to here again?

Or would they find a way to cut the thread and make here his new home? Would that even? Or would it leave him adrift in a whole lot of nothing?

It hurt just to think about.

Setting the drink aside on the bedside table, Gordon flopped onto his back. Benry had mentioned passports. Maybe that just meant that legal paperwork was needed to ensure he could stay.

Gordon sat up again. "A fucking citizenship test?" he asked aloud. "Does he need a fucking citizenship test to stay here without the Skeletons?"

Absurd if true, but Gordon had no other ideas. He'd have to get Benry a citizenship test.

"-Not exactly, Mister Freeman." A hand clamped down on Gordon's shoulder as the bed dipped beside him. He screeched, turning sharply to find G-Man there, passive and calm. "A Citizenship is not... the exact answer."

"Then what?" Gordon asked.

G-Man produced his briefcase and placed it on his lap. The locks clicked as he released them, opening the black leather case. Gordon tried to look inside it, yet couldn't find himself able to comprehend anything until it clicked shut again.

Smiling in a somewhat unsettling manner, G-Man handed Gordon some papers. "Here."

Taking them, Gordon looked at what he had. It was an application form for-

"-Temporal Relocation and Severance?"

"We use this for beings... that need to move across realities. Instead of severing Benry's plane to ours, we can... simply remove him from his own. In a sense he will be... the one sewing our reality to his home realm, as opposed to sewing his realm to ours."

Gordon somewhat understood. If Benry was here, on Earth, then that would be his base of origin. Any kind of death he suffered would slingshot him back here, and he could unstitch himself from his home plane any time he visited. 

Or at least, Gordon supposed he could. Plus, having Benry living in this plane would stop the whole "Anchor Point" thing from being an issue.

Biting his lip, Gordon mulled over his thoughts. "How do we-"

But G-Man was gone, the mattress creaking in his absence. Gordon frowned and looked back at the paper, noting the several sheets he'd have to go through.

He had a long night ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Up until this point, I'd had all the chapters pre-written, but now I'm literally posting as I go. I'm really sorry about that.


	11. Waking Up With Your Head All Foggy

The clock had just hit two when Gordon passed out on the guest bed. He'd intended to go home and sleep, but the day's events weighed heavy on him, and when Tommy had come in to check on him, he'd insisted that Gordon stay the night.

"I've got more than enough spaces for everyone to sleep!" he'd said cheerfully. "A-And if the Skeletons come back, I've got guns!" To prove his point, he pulled a fully loaded shotgun out from the small gap between the mattress and the head of the bedframe. 

Gordon had blinked. He'd slept here a few times and still hadn't noticed it. "Wow."

Tommy merely grinned. "We're well stocked here Mister Freeman, and Dad's in the backyard! His employers said he could help in defending us."

And that was how he'd found himself in bed surrounded by countless sheets of scribbles and legal paperwork. Getting Benry to live on their plane wasn't going to be as easy as crossing T's and dotting I's. Gordon needed people to vouch for his transition to their reality, and considering how he was a strange being that even G-Man found himself wary of, that itself added a whole other load of papers to the equation.

It'd crossed over to his dreams too. Although his body lay motionless on the bed, exhausted from the events of Dunkin Donuts, a strange alternate plane, and a conversation about the inherent wetness of water, his thoughts were alive with what-ifs and hypotheticals.

The idea of Benry eating out of a garbage bin woke Gordon up from his flustered, annoying dreams. He sat up abruptly, a cry of disgust escaping his mouth before he realized where he was. Some of the papers crumpled as he shifted, having slipped under him during the night when he'd rolled or simply shifted. His glasses were still on, which is how he could tell that the sheet under his left hand was titled "Extraplanar Assassination and Removal of Problematic Beings". 

Ah. Right. That'd been a thing. If Benry got too rowdy, inviting Skeletons in to cause mayhem, or just making too many problems for Earth and the rest of the Milky Way, then he was going to be taken care of.

Gordon swallowed. He didn't want to think about that.

Not wanting to think about it made the idea sit deep in his head. Great. The loop of attempt-to-ignore-and-perceive-harder. One of his favourites. Gordon sighed, grabbing his phone and slipping it into his pocket as he stood.

The floor was cold with the morning chill, making Gordon pause. He pulled his phone back out, checking the time.

Five in the morning. Great. Wonderful. A perfect time to wake up.

Pocketing the phone again, Gordon opened the bedroom door. At least, he thought it was the bedroom door. Yet as he set his gaze on what was supposed to be the hallway in Tommy's house, he found a thick fog that rushed into the bedroom, cold and damp.

He coughed at the sudden change, waving what little he could away from his face. Opening the door had caused the wall of white to disperse, showing that Tommy's hallway did still exist beyond the door.

Uneasy, and a little bit scared, Gordon grabbed the shotgun that Tommy had shown him last night, checked that it was loaded, and carefully ventured out into the hall.

The thick fog swirled around Gordon as he moved, each step displacing the white air and causing it to cling to him. He held the shotgun tightly, moving down the familiar hallway with careful steps. He hadn't felt unwelcome in Tommy's house before, but the aura that seemed to radiate from the walls felt oppressive and intrusive, as if trying to curse him for daring to be here.

"Tommy?" Gordon hesitantly called as he rounded the bend in the hallway, coming to Sunkist's room and Tommy's lab. Perhaps one of the potions he'd been making had gone wrong. Darnold was teaching him that stuff, and even the resident potions expert had made a bad batch of powerade at some point.

But nobody answered. The door to both Sunkist's room and Tommy's lab were closed, and as Gordon tried the handle, he found them unable to twist, as if completely frozen in place. He knocked on the wood, expecting to hear Sunkist's familiar 'boof' or maybe some kind of movement, but only the silence of the house answered him, not even the gentle hum of the lab equipment coming from the crack under the laboratory's door.

It felt wrong. Gordon picked up his pace, moving at a brisk walk, slighly hunched as he held the gun close, ready to fire at anything that so much as looked at him funny. Even the good old Vibe Station felt wrong, the chairs almost impossible to see for all the fog surrounding them. Gordon even stubbed his toe on one as he tried the rumpus room door, finding it as unyielding as the other two.

"What the hell..." Gordon gave the handle one last turn before trying to force the door open, slamming against it with his shoulder. It refused to budge, as if hitting nothing but a flat wall. "Is this thing painted on?"

No, considering he could still feel the door texture and grab the handle, but for all intents and purposes, it didn't seem to have any give.

Even the stairs felt wrong as Gordon went down. The fog seemed to thicken, both in its ability to obscure, but also just in the air itself, making it somewhat difficult to walk. It was like trying to run while dreaming, stuck at a certain pace, no matter the effort. Still, Gordon could move, and he kept that thought in mind as he bit his lip, trying to work out if he really was asleep.

There was pain, so it wasn't a dream. Unfortunate.

What was also unfortunate, and also strange, was the pool's water, or lack thereof. What had once been a comfortable pool that was almost constantly warmed was now an empty hole in the ground, absent of a single drop of liquid. Instead the fog seemed to collect in it, serving as some mockery of water, given how it rippled like the waves of the sea.

Hesitantly, Gordon stuck his prosthetic hand into it, resting the shotgun on his lap as he bent down. The fog swirled around his fingers, but nothing tried to pull him in, and when he pulled his hand back, everything was still there. "Okay, this is weird. Tommy? Tommy, what the hell are you doing?"

He got to his feet, gun held tight as he marched down to Tommy's bedroom door and slamming a fist on it. The knocking sounded flat, and the door handle refused to give, just like all the other doors. "Thomas Dunkaccino Coolata, answer me right now!"

Tommy should have manifested immediately. Tommy hated being called Thomas, almost as much as he hated his middle name, Dunkaccino, which he'd once told everyone after he'd gotten drunk. They'd managed to mock it for an entire ten seconds before Tommy emptied a clip into Bubby, who shook off the bullets and grumbled that his coat was ruined.

But there was no Tommy. There wasn't even Sunkist, who also manifested at the mention of a Dunkaccino, but mainly because he liked the drink. Nothing answered him, like the world was holding its breath, too intent on sending ominous and oppressive vibes into the atmosphere than doing anything else.

"Fuck it." Gordon pulled away from the door, giving it a swift kick. It refused to budge. He kicked again, and nothing. "Yeah, fuck it!" Taking a step backwards, he braced himself, shotgun at the ready as he fired a shot into the wood.

It made impact, sending wooden splinters into the air and blackening the wood, but as Gordon ran his fingers over the damaged door, he found it smooth underneath, like in Black Mesa.

Was the script back? Was the script somehow running, causing all this fog? Gordon was almost afraid to find the answer.

Gripping the gun harder, he ran down the hall, taking a hard right and barrelling through the door to the kitchen; the first door he'd encountered that yielded under little more than a nudge.

He turned, ready to grab the handle and twist it to see if it was like the others when the door slammed shut, closing him off from the hallway. "No no no," he muttered, quickly grabbing the handle. It didn't move, just like all the others.

He was being forced onwards, to progress, with no way to go back.

"Shit..." Gordon pulled the gun close, taking cautious steps into the kitchen. The fog swirled and danced in the cold air, being drawn to the sliding door that led out into the covered dining area. It was open just a crack, letting in a breeze of crisp air that stung Gordon's nose.

Now, Gordon wasn't a fool. Okay not entirely true, but he did know that open doors and weird fog wasn't a good mix. This was almost certainly a trap, in the same way the health station supposedly containing Blu-Ray and TV was a trap.

But what choice did he have right now? Whatever script was governing him wanted him to go out that door, and fighting against the script had proved futile. It was best just to listen, and then later, to try and sequence break.

It was probably the safest thing to do right now anyway, even if every part of his body argued against it.

Nervous, Gordon drew in a deep breath, feeling it sting in his nose and chest. He let it out with a sigh, the fog around him curling and twisting with the exhale. His steps felt heavy as he moved through the silence, movements as quiet as the rest of the house. The sliding door handle was cold against his hand, the shotgun resting in his prosthetic.

Opening the door was going to be an action he couldn't take back, and Gordon tried not to stew on that fact, gritting his teeth. "Come and get me, you Skeleton fucks!" he shouted, flinging open the door and listening to the roar of it sliding across its rails, shattering the unnatural silence that'd blanketed the world.

The air rushing in from outside pulled the thick fog out, and with it carried Gordon. It swept him off his feet like a wave, lifting him up and taking him over the paved dining area, out onto the cold dewy grass of the morning. Fragments of light were cresting the horizon, tinting the sky with purples and oranges, unmarred by the fog that still hung thick in the air.

But the vibrant colours of the dawn didn't get Gordon's attention, nor the way the misted air danced and swirled with the breeze. No, his eyes were trained high on the horizon, blown wide. He bit his lip for reassurance, but even when his teeth drew blood, it offered none.

"No way..." he breathed, letting go and tasting the copper on his tongue. Still he ignored it, trying impossibly to comprehend what he was seeing.

Surrounded by the fog stood a Skeleton. It towered into the sky, hundreds of feet away, almost in the next suburb, yet completely clear to see.

The top half of a giraffe's skull stared down at him, jaw missing. Its empty eyes seemed to pierce him, cutting deep into Gordon's being. Four arms, two where humans would normally have them, and then another two where the ribcage ended, shoulderblades slotting perfectly onto the curved spine as it loomed in the distance. 

Its ribcage was large, an ivory white that seemed purer than the fog around it, and although Gordon couldn't see it well, he could see what looked to be a somewhat normal pelvis and legs, although something seemed to be wrong at the knees.

The Skeleton focused on him, its enormous frame turning to face him despite the difference. Gordon grasped his shotgun tightly, trying to fight the rising panic.

"Oh, bro, what're you doing here?"

Gordon's knees felt weak. His stomach clenched. His head span.

"Benry?" he managed to squeak out, mind trying to race a mile a minute while the emergency brakes were on.

"Told you you'd piss yourself." There was no jaw to move with his words which made the thing all the more surreal. "Hang on. Let- Maybe-"

"What the fuck are you..." Gordon fell backwards, landing on his ass as his shotgun dropped half into his lap. "What the fuck are you Benry?"

"I told you I wasn't human." The fog seemed to get heavier for a moment before returning to the somewhat thick-yet-thin consistency it'd held before.

Gordon blinked, trying to focus on the Skeleton. It'd changed. There was a face under the giraffe skull, skin pale and inhuman. Inside the ribcage was a body, bound by the ivory bones. A pair of arms were beneath the more human ones of the skeleton, as if tied together while the other pair hung freely. As for the legs, the bones stood independently, leaving two human-like legs separate from the bones. The Skeleton, Benry, tilted his head. "Better, Feetsman?"

Gordon tried to support himself with his arms and found them giving out, which summed up his response.

Skeletal-Benry leaned forward, a gust of air being kicked up as he loomed over an entire suburb of houses to analyze Gordon. His face took up the sky, skull blotting out all but the tiniest beams of light, creating a shadow that Gordon thought might swallow him whole. "Whoa. Not uh, not taking this too crash hot are you? Bit scared. Pissypants. Babyman. Gordon Babypants."

His jabs were gentle, which only added to the foreign, uncomfortable atmosphere. Still, Gordon could sense that it was some attempt to comfort, considering the circumstances.

"...didn't piss my pants," he grumbled out, turning his gaze away from Skeletal-Benry in some hopes it'd calm his racing heart and stop the fight-or-flight reflex that was kicking in. "Haven't done that since I was like, two."

"...But you did do it at least once," came the answer. "Gross."

"I'm not having this conversation with you!" Gordon whipped his head around to look at the Skeleton before him, face a mask of anger in hopes that he could counteract the fear. It seemed as if that's what Benry had wanted, considering how he only grinned back at him, shifting to rest one hand on a nearby house and the other on the granny flat that supposedly had G-Man inside. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"Here?" Skeletal-Benry pulled away, letting some light back in as he did. "Bro, you're the one on _my_ plane. Since when did you decide to make a return trip to the Bone Zone?"

"I _really_ don't like how you phrased that." With each part of their banter, Gordon found his body relaxing. The panic slowly flowed away, becoming like the fog; present and somewhat felt, yet not completely overwhelming. It was a struggle, but Gordon managed to get to his feet, even if he had to keep his knees bent inwards for stability. "And what do you mean 'return trip'? You're the one in the middle of the suburbs."

There was a pause, followed by Skeletal-Benry pulling back so fast that the vaccum of air made Gordon stumble. "That's not good. Not cool. Not sick as hell."

"What isn't?" Raising an eyebrow, Gordon managed to stabilize himself fully, focused on the alien-cryptid-skeleton-guard. "Benry, what's happening?"

"Shit, something's going wrong. I think-" He knelt down. "Bro we gotta continue this conversation closer, I can't hear you, and looming all oppressively over the terrain like that is a territorial display of aggression and trust me, you'd absolutely piss if you saw that."

"Can we stop talking about piss!" Gordon shouted back, grateful that the world seemed to be empty and thus nobody had to hear him. "God, it's almost as bad as you and Feet!"

"I can't hear you Feetman," Skeletal-Benry answered, gaze only half trained on him, attention seemingly elsewhere. It looked almost like he was hiding, pressing up against something Gordon couldn't see. "You wanna fight me, come say it to my face."

Clenching his fist, Gordon turned sharply and ran back into the house. The door was still open, and as he crossed through it and into the foggy kitchen, it didnt close behind him. He paid it no mind however, running down the hallway to the front door. He chose to forego shoes, slamming his entire body into the front door in some desperate attempt to get it to open.

And it did, which was strange considering you had to pull it from the inside.

Yet it swung open, hinges somehow permitting the action and letting Gordon barrel through, as if it was never even latched, let alone locked or the wrong way round.

The frontyard was just as foggy as the house and backyard, but it was still thin enough that Gordon could see the driveway, completely empty.

Had Bubby taken his car? No, no there was no need for that. If he was desperate to get himself and Coomer home, either he'd turn into a car and get them home, or Coomer would simply find a little gap in reality and take advantage of it, surely.

Looking to the other driveways yielded the same sight; empty of any kind of vehicle or mark that signalled anyone had even been there. Perfect little white-picket fence houses sat abandoned, as if copy-pasted perfectly, which only added to the surreal feeling.

"-Anyway, I doubt it's a dream," came Benry's voice, startling Gordon out of his observations. "Wouldn't dream about you."

"I wouldn't dream about you either," Gordon answered, moving to the footpath and turning to face the Skeletal Guard. "I have better things to dream about."

"Can't hear you Feetman," was the only response. Gordon just grumbled, beginning a jog down the footpath.

The fog swirled as Gordon moved through it, thickening the further he got from Tommy's house. He almost lost himself in the labyrinthine streets and cul-de-sacs when Benry's voice rang out clear. "Bro, where'd you go? It's gettin' cloudy here. You doing something illegal? Masking your actions with a ninja smokebomb? Hiding from me?"

"I can't see you either man!" Gordon shouted out, voice echoing. "Are you-" he cut off, seeing the blurred outline of the Skeleton, accentuated by two glowing eyes that hadn't been there before. "I see you!"

"You see me!" Skeleton-Benry called back, turning sharply to look more pointedly in Gordon's direction. His gaze seemed to set the hairs on Gordon's arms standing to attention, a chill running up his spine. "What's up!"

"Keep talking- Wow I can't believe I just said that to you." Gordon kept his gaze on Benry's glowing eyes, only looking away to make sure he wasn't about to run into a fence.

Instead he ran into a lamp post.  
At least Benry couldn't see it though all the mist.

"Keep talking? It's like impossible to hear you but if I'm like some kind of siren singing to you, pulling you outta the sea or something I-" Benry's voice cut off with a rattle of bones. Gordon stopped, waiting a moment for Benry to talk again.

He didn't.

Gordon started sprinting.

There was a fear that Gordon hadn't felt in a long time as he darted down the sidewalks of suburbia, feet starting to ache. It was a fear _for_ Benry.

He'd felt it back in Black Mesa a few times, a passing concern as the Science Team trudged on without the Security Guard. It settled in his chest for a moment, then fled, like a bird on a branch.

Now though, that bird was making a nest, and Gordon was feeling the weight of it in his chest, beneath his ribs. Benry was being silent and unmoving, which usually only happened when he was dead.

An oddity he'd grown used to, seeing Benry's corpse. A temporary death that he always seemed to recover from, without being trapped in his own world. Perhaps it was less a death and more a lapse in living, like blacking out momentarily.

But now he knew Benry was alive, as alive as he'd ever been, and yet deathly silent. It was wrong, and those piercing blue eyes that now stared out in the fog, summoned if only for Gordon's sake, seemed fearful. They looked at Gordon, and then everywhere else, as if trying to sense a threat on all sides.

"I don't know if you can hear me," Benry said, voice low as he shrunk back, eyes only barely visible, giving Gordon a ballpark estimate of where to go. It was harder to hear him now, but he was still audible which did help, considering Gordon had taken a wrong turn. "The guys here, Skeledudes, they're uh- They're getting pretty mad. Wanna like, break outta here. Prison break. Since like, they don't have passports and can't really get out in the legal pro way."

Gordon turned a corner, biting his lip. He didn't like where this was going.

"So now they're like, trying to get me to like, request a replacement passport? And I don't really wanna coz I know what's gonna- I got that future sight. So they're angry. Angery. Grrrr. Gonna try and use me to hold a portal or bridge or something open long enough so they can sneak over like they did before."

Benry's words sat heavy. Gordon cut through a backyard and vaulted over a fence, listening to the words that continued, hushed and with an underlying fear.

"Except there's gonna be more than one. There's gonna be hundreds, and they're gonna get you to issue the passport. Make you like, talk to interdimensional politics guys and postmen to like, issue them."

Gordon had escaped the suburbs, houses trailing behind him and giving way to the apartment blocks and office skyscrapers of the city. That is, if he could have seen them. His vision was still obscured, but he knew the area well enough; he'd come here for Yao-Yun's meetings.

He decided to try his luck with answering Benry, taking a deep breath to shout his reply. "How the hell are they gonna make me do that?" he asked, hands cupped around his mouth as he approached the dark shape in the fog, guided by glowing eyes.

Benry's gaze snapped to him, the fog swirling in response. It was like a vacuum, pulling Gordon forward. This time it didn't quite sweep him up, and he stumbled, scraping his feet against the concrete pavements and bitumen roads as the unnatural breeze pulled him into the city.

He came to a stop, cast in a shadow. Ivory bones dwarfed him, and Gordon craned his head to look up at Skeletal-Benry, still so impossibly tall despite the fact he was kneeling, pressed against a skyscraper. "Benry? Benry, how are the Skeletons going to make me get them a passport?"

The Skeleton bent down lower, looming over Gordon, eyes crossed to focus on him as the cold bone brushed against Gordon's nose.

"You have a Skeleton inside your body Gordon," Benry said, voice low and serious, without the deadpan monotone he usually held. "And it's not going to listen to you when the time comes."

"Gordon?"

Another voice. Familiar. Something that didn't belong in this fogged, twisted city. Slowly, Gordon turned. Skeletal-Benry pulled back, eyes fixed on the figure standing just a few meters away. "Coomer."

There he stood, wearing his labcoat, covered in fresh stains from some kind of creature that Gordon didn't want to know about. "Gordon, what's-"

Without fanfare or warning, the fog vanished. Sound rushed to fill the void left behind, deafening both Gordon and Coomer. Cars honked at Coomer who had been standing in an empty road, now full of cars and vans in the middle of morning traffic.

Gordon on the other hand stood on the footpath in his pajamas, now being pushed and shoved by passersby, earning more than a few glares and rude words for blocking the flow.

There was a fear in Coomer's eyes, and Gordon felt it, turning sharply to look at the Skeleton that had once been a friend.

But he was gone, and there wasn't a single sign he'd ever been there.

The honking of horns stopped as Coomer stepped onto the sidewalk, setting a trembling hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Gordon? Gordon, I think we should sit down."

Gordon swallowed, throat dry as he stared at the sky, clear as anything and absent of ivory bones. "Yeah. I think so too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have not worked out a name for Benry's home plane and honestly? I don't know if I ever will.
> 
> Also I thought this chapter was going to end up at like 6k but I have fallen short of that. Either way, it's somewhat longer than usual. I'm really flying by the seat of my pants here so let's hope that turns out well for us all!
> 
> And Benry's true form! He's very tall. Like, stupidly. I think I explained to a friend that Benry essentially crossed a gap of 3 KM just with his upper torso. Do with that information what you will.


	12. Shrapnel In Feet and Bodies In Voidspace

Doctor Coomer's hand was a gentle reassurance as the two of them began to walk down the packed sidewalks of the city, both standing out for their poor choice in attire.

Coomer was in his labcoat, stains fresh from his experiments, and Gordon, well he was in his boxers and shirt from the previous day, feet bare and bleeding on the pavement, leaving a little trail as he walked. The shotgun pressed against his chest didn't do him any favours either, earning more than a few glances.

"I uh, think we're gonna get in trouble." Gordon said, looking at the mess he was leaving behind them. "Public indecency, spreading a biohazard."

"Gordon, you're going to get in trouble," Coomer answered simply, the smile on his face not making it to his voice. "Perhaps we should sit down at home."

That was an idea. Gordon opened his mouth to voice his agreement when the world seemed to shift and whirl around him, just for a split second. Green and black rushed past in that instant, along with the mere concept of buildings, as if seen out the corner of his eye while turning on his heel.

For a moment Gordon thought he was going to be sick.

But then it stopped, green and black setting into shades of blue and white and red and brown, coalescing as furniture and walls and picture frames. 

One such blur of green solidified into the familiar and rather annoyed form of Bubby, who was in the middle of buttering some toast. "Gordon."

"Bubby?" Still disoriented, Gordon turned to look at the scientist. He hadn't noticed that Coomer had let go of his shoulder, nor that he'd vanished down to the basement with a loud battlecry. Instead, he was enamoured by Bubby's pajamas. They weren't the old striped things that Gordon had been expecting. No, instead Bubby was wearing an old heavy metal shirt that'd faded with multiple washes, as well as some pants with flames around the hems, looking as if they'd been stolen from Guy Fieri's wardrobe itself.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house, Gordon?" Bubby asked, setting aside the buttered bread and picking up another slice. "And why are you bleeding on my freshly mopped floor?"

Gordon looked down at his feet, suddenly aware of how much they hurt. "Oh god."

Bubby sighed, lowering their unbuttered slice. "Sit down, Gordon. I'll get you a towel."

Gordon settled into one of the kitchen chairs, feeling the weight of everything settle on him. He placed his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. This was not the wake-up call he wanted, and it was not the one he needed either.

"Harold isn't in a conversational mood," Bubby said, startling Gordon out of his momentary reflection. In his hands was a small tub of water, a towel slung over his shoulder and the strap of a first-aid bag dangling from the crook of his elbow. "Which means something really shook him up. He woke up in a cold sweat, saying that he needed to see you."

The tub was set down and Gordon turned his chair, putting his feet into the water. He hissed at the contact. There must have been antiseptic in the water, he supposed. 

Bubby set the towel and first-aid kit down on the floor, kneeling as he took one of Gordon's feet and began to inspect it for shrapnel. "Huh. Benry's scans were accurate."

Gordon sat up straighter. "You're kidding. He actually got scans of my feet throug the boots?"

"In HD," Bubby answered, grabbing some tweezers from the kit and pulling a small rock free. "I think he planned on selling them to that wikifeet page."

"God, don't say that." Gordon slumped back into the chair. He wanted to change the subject. "You said Coomer woke up in a sweat?"

"Yes." Bubby was silent for a moment, considering what he wanted to say. Gordon simply let him, more occupied with his own thoughts. He almost missed it when Bubby started talking again. "He's been different since Black Mesa. We try to brush it off, laugh about it, but... This morning was different."

"Benry appeared. In the city." Gordon felt Bubby's grip on his foot tighten for a moment. "I don't think he tried to like, come visit or anything. In fact, he said I was on _His_ planet instead."

Bubby looked back to Gordon's injured foot, peering past the blood for any other pieces of rubble. "Harold woke up breathless. Sat bolt upright. Said something had happened. Said he needed to see you. Before I could say anything in response, he'd already changed clothes, just like that. Rewriting the fabric of reality to put on his last outfit. Guess he was embarrassed to be seen in his pink cotton pajamas."

It was some attempt at a joke, something to lighten the mood, but it fell flat with both of them. Gordon winced as Bubby pulled a small piece of glass out. "Hey. Where's my gun?"

Bubby raised an eyebrow for a moment. "Gun? You didn't- Ah." He set Gordon's foot back down in the reddened water. "I think Harold left it in the Voidspace."

"Voidspace?"

"Didn't you see it? The green and black flashing seizure zone." Bubby stood up, brushing his damp hands onto his clothes. "Well, it's not always flashing. It only flashes if you're going somewhere. If you're just using it as storage, as Harold often likes to do, or to change something from False to True, then it doesn't flash."

Gordon blinked owlishly. "You've- You've been there?"

"How else do you think we get around? Harold doesn't let me drive." Bubby turned to walk towards the basement. "Harold, I need to go into the Voidspace again."

"Wait." Gordon stood up, ignoring the pain in his feet. "Are-"

A portal opened behind Bubby, and before Gordon could process it, Bubby backed into it, vanishing without a trace as it snapped shut.

Gordon just stared. Now he was alone in Bubby and Coomer's kitchen, feet currently disinfecting in a pool of bloody water. He was tired, disoriented, sore, and now facing the fact his friends were tearing through the rules in reality he'd once thought unchangeable.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, grateful that he'd remembered to add the number given to him by Yao-Yun earlier.

It rang three times before there was an answer. "Gordon? It's unlike you to call at... eight in the morning. At least from your file."

Yao-Yun's voice was a wonderful distraction from everything, so far removed from the abstract and bizarre reality he was now facing. "Hey. I've... I've had a Night. Well, a Morning. Let's- Let's just call it a Day."

"Would you like to come into the office?" Yao-Yun asked. There was the squeak of a chair as they relaxed into it. "I only have one meeting today, but that's at four."

Gordon shook his head, then remembered he was on the phone. "No. I can't- Like, not at the moment. I've uh, gotten myself hurt."

"You haven't attempted-"

"No no!" He quickly scrambled to defend himself. "I had... I had a moment and went for a impromptu run. Without shoes. Into the city. I don't know how long it was, but uh, when I woke up it was five and now it's eight."

He heard Yao-Yun gasp on the other end. "Are you okay?"

"A friend came and got me," Gordon answered, lifting a foot and resting it on his knee as he inspected the damage. "They uh, found me wandering around town. Brought me home."

"I'm relieved to hear it." There was the faint click-clack of a keyboard. "Now Gordon, why don't you tell me what happened.

And so Gordon explained. He spoke about the Skeletons in the Dunkin Donuts, about the other world, about what Mister Coolatta had told him, about the fog and Benry's true form and the voidspace and his bloodied feet.

When he'd finished, he slumped into the chair. "I know that all sounds rather wild but..."

Yao-Yun laughed softly. "Forgive me Gordon, but it really is." There was a smile in their voice, and immediately Gordon knew that Yao-Yun didn't believe them. "I came into the office at seven this morning, and there wasn't a single patch of fog or anything, and I certainly would have noticed some kind of creature looming over the city."

Gordon shook his head. "No, no it- It wasn't like, here in the city. Not exactly. It was here but, but like also somewhere else? I don't-" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Yao-Yun sighed, making Gordon whine. "It really happened."

"You've been under some stress. I did hear about the Dunkin Donuts you visited. I assume encountering that awoke some memories of your time in Black Mesa. Perhaps you fell, imagined the skeletons, and then that experience compounded with your experience in Black Mesa."

Gordon grimaced. "Yeah... maybe..." There was reluctance in his voice, wanting to argue more. It was further punctuated by a portal opening, green, black, and ominous against the normalcy of the kitchen. Bubby stepped out of it, holding a box of pizza and a shotgun. "Maybe I hallucinated the _whole_ thing."

"Gordon..." Yao-Yun's voice was soft, trying to comfort. "You've experienced some serious trauma that-"

"Gordon, is your therapist invalidating everything that just happened to you?" Bubby set the pizza down on the table as the portal closed. "By the way, here's your shotgun."

Yao-Yun's voice came through the phone. "You have a shotgun, Gordon?!"

"I gotta go bye!"

"Wait!"

Gordon hung up the phone, tossing it onto the table. Bubby merely glanced at it before offering Gordon a slice of pizza. "Don't complain."

"About wh-" Gordon cut off. Pineapple pizza. Of course. He took a sharp breath in but swallowed his complaints, taking the offered slice.

His phone began to vibrate on the table, rattling against the wood. Bubby grabbed it. "You gonna answer."

"No," Gordon answered with his mouth full of pizza. "I know who it is."

Bubby pressed a button, hanging up. "You and Harold should talk to Mister Coolatta. He seems to know best."

"Surprised to see you deferring to someone else." Gordon turned to look at Bubby, caught off-guard by his expression. He looked uncertain, concerned, even a little scared. "...You're really at a loss, huh."

"It scares me seeing Harold so uneasy." Bubby took a slice of pizza from the box, biting into it with sharp teeth that made Gordon lean away ever so slightly. "He hasn't been this worried since before the Rocket Launch."

"There was Nothing There," Coomer simply stated. Both Gordon and Bubby jumped at his sudden appearance. "And then, when all was finished in Xen, Everything was there. We escaped the script."

He was holding some pizza. Nobody had seen him get it from the box.

"Doctor Coomer, do you have any idea what happened this morning?" Gordon asked. He removed his feet from the somewhat-sterile water, resting it on the nearby towel. "Because I _really_ don't want that to happen again."

"I believe you, as the Anchor Point, are inadvertantly pulling Benry towards you, Gordon! You're going to force our worlds to merge, or a portal to open. Or both!" There was a smile on his face, but whether it was genuine, or just a leftover habit from scripting was anyone's guess. "Just as before Benry met you, he wove his home plane into ours, now you've met Benry, you've somehow woven a thread into him."

Gordon sighed, half-eaten pizza resting on his knee. "Why does it have to be like this?" he asked, phone beginning to vibrate again. Bubby looked at it and hung up. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"None of us did," Bubby answered. "Now shut up, eat your breakfast, and get the hell out of my house."

Annoyed, Gordon turned to look at Bubby and took the slowest bite of his pizza that he could.

He was surprised he didn't burst into flames for the action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's kinda filler, I just really wanted to put something out there since this fic kinda got sidelined by everything else I'm trying to balance

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @hinoofthedawn for more bullshit :3c


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